


The Secret Life of J.J. Rush

by Candy_A



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, M/M, Series: The Diary Series, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-01-14
Updated: 1999-01-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:38:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 101,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candy_A/pseuds/Candy_A
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's dangerous undercover assignment ends in disaster, and both Jim and Blair struggle to cope with the aftermath and rebuild their life together.<br/>This story is a sequel to Lucky Charm.<br/><b>Archivist note</b>: This story has been split into nine parts for easier loading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I felt this story would be most powerful taking place in The Diary Series universe. I realize the theme may be one some readers don't care for or wish to skip over. Rest assured, if you aren't comfortable with this theme or this story, it won't interfere with future installments in this series to the extent that you can't enjoy those without reading this one.
> 
> Song lyrics are taken from (in order of appearance): "Wish You Were Here", by Blackmore's Night, from the album "Shadow of the Moon"; "The Gift", by Jim Brickman with Susan Ashton and Collin Raye, from Brickman's album, "The Gift"; "Timeless Love" by Saraya, from the soundtrack to the movie "Shocker"; and "Never Thought That I Could Love", by Dan Hill.

Due to the length of this story, it's been split into nine parts for easier loading.

## The Secret Life of J.J. Rush

by Candy Apple

Author's disclaimer: Pet Fly owns the guys and The Sentinel. No money being made.

* * *

**THE SECRET LIFE OF J.J. RUSH - part one**

by 

Candy Apple 

* * *

//I wish you were here,  
Don't you know the snow is getting colder,  
And I miss you like hell,  
And I'm feeling blue...

I miss your laugh, I miss your smile  
I miss everything about you,  
Every second's like a minute,  
Every minute like a day,  
When you're far away...// 

* * *

He wasn't sure what to focus on--the pain/pleasure of his throbbing shaft rubbing against the bed or the steady strokes to his prostate that were dragging shameless cries of ecstasy from the pit of his throat. Or maybe the relief of not having to look at the raw pain in Blair's eyes for just this few moments while they made love. 

Jim felt the wave of his orgasm rushing over him, and he knew the contractions of his body would push Blair over the edge to join him. A sudden increase in the pace of the strokes told him he was right, and soon their cries were mingling as Blair filled his lover with his seed. 

Sweaty and boneless, Blair lay plastered to Jim's back, keeping them joined. 

"I don't want to move," he whispered in the darkness, his breath coming out in hot puffs against Jim's damp back. 

"Stay where you are, baby." Jim tried to catalog every sensation of Blair once again--his scents, the textures of his hair and skin, the pattern of his breathing and heartbeat as he cooled down after making love...and the sound of his tears. "Blair...please..." Jim hadn't meant for it to come out exasperated, but it did nonetheless. 

This would be their last night together for possibly a few weeks, or maybe a few months. Jim was going into deep cover beginning the following morning, and no contact would be permitted with the outside world. Blair was not to be part of this operation, partly because there was no real place for him in it, and partly because it was sufficiently dangerous that Jim had asked Simon to be damned sure there was no place in it for Blair. 

To call J.J. Rush a dirtbag was to be charitable. A 40-year-old man who had been on the streets in one capacity or another since he was fifteen, Rush had aligned himself with various underworld characters on the East Coast until he reached a level of wealth and success dealing in the vices of others. Breaking out on his own, Rush had moved his operation first to L.A. Finding the criminal hierarchy there unreceptive to a new power player such as himself, and the competition a bit stringent, he was en route to Cascade to join the Bernardi Family's extensive crime organization, running their porno and prostitution ventures. During the trip, he'd died a fiery death when his motorcycle hit a patch of ice during the season's last freezing rain storm and hurtled down an embankment, exploding into flames. 

Rush had no family, and this left the Cascade PD virtually dancing in the corridors as they plotted to slip someone into J.J.'s identity to keep the appointment, albeit a few days late. The notice was short, so they needed someone about the same age, similar in physical appearance and with a good working knowledge of motorcycles. Jim Ellison was born to play the part, and despite lingering strained relations between Vice and Major Crime, the two departments joined forces to launch one of the most aggressive, high-risk undercover operations in the history of the Cascade PD. 

Numerous Vice cops already had "ins" in the organization. The veteran policewoman chosen to be Jim's working partner in the operation had started out undercover as a hooker, and now acted as a sort of "field supervisor" over most of Bernardi's "girls". J.J. Rush was to be her immediate boss. Jim would now be filling that position. 

Blair had pleaded with Jim not to take the assignment, insisting he had a bad feeling about it. Jim had been unnerved by Blair's reaction, which was nothing short of hysterical and unstable considering the length of the proposed separation. Sure, weeks or possibly even a few _months_ apart ripped Jim's heart out, but still, it was part of his job, and it would be over soon enough. Blair approached everything since Jim's decision to take the assignment as if Jim had just been told he was terminal. It should have come as no surprise that Blair was crying again, after what he no doubt viewed as the last time he'd ever be inside Jim. Blair wasn't must unhappy at the impending separation, he was already grieving. To him, Jim's demise was a given now, a bitter reality that would dawn with the first rays of sun the next morning. 

"Move, sweetheart." Jim flexed his body gently, but Blair grabbed hold of his arms and kept himself buried in Jim's body. "Baby, I want to talk to you." Seeing that Blair wasn't about to move willingly, Jim left him there and spoke to the pillow instead. "Please don't cry, sweetheart. It's only temporary, and we'll be back together--" 

"I'm sorry," Blair managed, finally withdrawing from Jim and moving over to the other side of the bed where he curled on his side, facing away from his lover, and proceeded to sob miserably into his pillow. 

"Blair, come on, baby, look at me." Jim pulled himself up on an elbow, running his hand from Blair's shoulder down his arm and back up again. "The worst case scenario is a few months, and it probably won't take that long. Simon and Cameron both think it'll be wrapped up in a few weeks with someone that close to Bernardi himself." Jim had been encouraged that both Simon and the Vice Department captain had opined that Bernardi would go down fast with someone from their team in J.J.'s place. Provided, of course, that Jim's cover wasn't blown. 

"Please don't go, Jim. Please. I have a bad feeling about this, I have all along," Blair managed through his tears. "If you go...If you go now, I don't think I'll ever see you again." 

"Look, Blair," Jim began in a firmer tone, but drawing the shaking body back against him, spooning protectively around it, "I've been in situations a lot more dangerous than this one with a hell of a lot less back-up, and I'm still alive. I will survive this too, and we'll get on with our lives." 

"I wish...I could...believe that." 

"Please, baby. You know I can't stand to see you cry. We don't have much more time--" Jim cursed himself for that choice of words as the body in his arms shook even more fiercely at the reminder. "I promise I'll come back home to you, angel. I love you so much, baby. I won't leave you for good, you know that." Jim indulged in a litany of promises no one can truly make, rubbing Blair's stomach soothingly and pulling the sweaty curls away from his face with his other hand. 

"You can't promise me that." 

"What do you want from me, Chief?" Jim's tone had a bit of an edge in it, more from his frustration at not being able to say or do anything to ease Blair's pain. His very presence seemed to shatter the other man's fragile control, as if every touch reminded Blair that it was one of their last. 

"I want you to stay with me," came the pathetic, sob-strained reply. 

Jim withdrew from holding Blair and sat up in the bed, pulling his pillows behind his back. Silence reigned for a while, only Blair's choking sounds and sniffles echoing in the dark apartment while Jim waited for him to cry it out. He was getting frustrated to the point of being angry, and if he'd pursued the subject any further with Blair at that moment, he'd have probably started bawling him out for acting like the worst example of a simpering cop's wife. 

Blair finally struggled his way to sit up, reduced now to just a few hiccups and finding a tissue on the nightstand to blow his nose. 

"Are you asking me to choose between you and this assignment?" Jim asked simply, watching Blair's back as it was kept in motion by the uneven respiration that followed a violent jag of tears. 

"No!" Blair turned around to sit on the bed facing Jim. Even in the moonlight and shadows, Jim could easily discern the misery in his lover's face. 

"Then what do you want me to do really? You know I have to do this. I'm the only one who has all the skills and experience and background to step into this role on this kind of short notice. Beyond that, you know I _want_ to do this. Why are you throwing these...fits every five minutes? I want you to lay your cards on the table. If this is a you-or-the-job ultimatum, then have the balls to say it that way." 

"That kind of ultimatum would be useless. You'd hate me for it and I'd never back it up," Blair said softly. "I won't ever leave you, Jim. I can't. You know that. So what would be the point of my trying to use some sort of leverage on you about this?" 

"If you tell me it's over--that you won't be here when I'm done--I'll call Simon right now and refuse the assignment." Jim knew it was a hateful thing to do to Blair, especially as he watched new tears slide down the flushed face from eyes that were nearly puffed shut that Jim hadn't thought could produce any more moisture. But Blair had to move past arguing and pleading with him to stay, accept he was leaving, and start saying goodbye. It was midnight now, and by six in the morning, Jim would be leaving. The time to argue had passed. 

"I'm too selfish to do that." 

"You want to run that one by me again?" 

"I don't want you to go because I have a terrible feeling about this assignment. So if I truly loved you, I'd use whatever I had to keep you from going, even if it meant you grew to hate me and we broke up. But see, I can't stand losing you. So I'm in a no-win situation, caught between two ways to go through the one thing in this world I fear most. I can either say good-bye to you now, or I can live with you while you slowly grow to hate me for ruining your career." 

"I would never hate you, sweetheart." 

"Yes, you would. You're already mad at me because I can't pull myself together. How much angrier are you going to be when you look back on 'the big case' you should have been part of and realize I'm the reason you weren't?" Blair shook his head. "I'm not trying to make you stay anymore, Jim. But I'm in a lot of pain right now, so I guess if you want to spend the night with me, you'll just have to put up with me if I can't hold it together." Blair reached up and brushed away the fresh tears. Jim felt a stab of regret at getting stern with Blair at all over this. Even if his reaction could be annoying at times, his pain was more than real. 

"Come here, baby." Jim held out his arms and Blair scooted into them immediately. "You know how much I love you, right?" Blair nodded. "I didn't mean to chew you out for feeling bad, sweetheart. You get weepy, I get mean, I guess. I don't want to leave you at all. You know that. But this is something I have to do. We're talking about one of the most significant potential busts in local history." 

"It's hard for me to get excited about that because all I care about is you. Your life is worth more to me than all the busts in the world." 

"I know, baby. I know." Jim held him tightly, and felt no impatience, only love, at the new tears he could feel trickling out of Blair's eyes again. 

"I'm sorry I'm acting this way. I can't help it." 

"I know. It's okay, sweetheart. I'm sorry I came down so hard on you. I feel as lousy about leaving as you do about seeing me go." 

"I don't think that's possible, because I don't feel like I can make it through this." 

"You can, baby. You'll be fine. Finals week is next week--you'll be stressed to the max just trying to get everything done. Then you can get caught up on your dissertation--hey, I'll probably be home before you get chapter five finished," Jim opined, kissing the top of Blair's head. The notorious chapter five had been giving Blair fits for weeks. 

"What if..." Blair took a deep breath. "What if you... I can't say it." 

"I will come home, sweetheart. I give you my word--" 

"But you can't promise me that. Not really." 

"Not really, no." Jim let out a long breath. 

"How long have we got?" Blair asked quietly. 

"Forever. This is just going to be a brief, painful-as-hell break in that time." 

"I mean until you go," Blair persisted, as Jim felt the new tears still running onto his chest from Blair's cheek. 

"About five and half hours." 

"Make love to me? I know I'm not exactly sexy right now because I probably look like someone just punched me in both eyes and my nose is running, but I want to feel you inside me. I want you to mark me and then come home to me before they all disappear." 

Jim pulled Blair up until his body was a warm, damp blanket on top of the larger man. Sliding his hands into the silky curls that fell over Blair's shoulders, Jim brought their mouths together in a prolonged, passionate kiss. He trailed hungry lips down Blair's jaw to his throat, and began working on a series of passion marks on the sensitive skin that would no doubt have some lasting power. In his heart, he knew they'd be long faded before he was back to make new ones. 

He kissed and nibbled at every bit of the sweet flesh presented to him, torturing Blair's nipples to a painful hardness, his hands sliding down the smooth back to cup the soft mounds of Blair's ass. Feeling his partner's insistent arousal poking his stomach and the frenzied humping that just his fingers caused by wandering to the cleft and brushing the little pucker there, Jim groped for the lube, and gently but efficiently prepared his partner, and then himself. 

Blair raised up on his knees a bit, straddling Jim, and impaled himself to the hilt in one long stroke, letting out a groan when they were fully joined. He collapsed against Jim's chest again as the other man reclined against his pillows, and Jim enfolded him in his arms tightly, beginning a gentle thrusting that soon became passionate, goaded by Blair's broken pleas for Jim to do it harder and faster, for him to do it hard enough that Blair would still feel it when he was left alone the next day. 

Coherent words eluded both men and Jim obeyed the commands, thrusting wildly and rapidly into the willing body that raised up a bit from his own, seeking the deepest penetration. Blair was screaming from the vigorous stimulation of his prostate and yet angling his body to increase the sensations, finally lacing fingers with Jim and literally riding his lover, adding his own motion to Jim's thrusts. Blair wouldn't let his lover's hands free--he wanted to prolong the sweet torture, to come only from the thorough loving he was getting, not to hasten it with any attention to his own weeping shaft. 

Nonetheless, it was Blair who came first, screaming Jim's name in a long wail as his seed spurted over the other man's chest and stomach, as well as his own. Jim rode the tide of his own approaching climax, thrusting rapidly into his sagging lover as the clenching internal muscles finished him, milked him and completed him. 

An exhausted Blair dropped onto his chest in a barely coherent heap. Jim spent a long time just holding him, nose buried in all those curls, then whispered hotly in his ear. 

"I love you, baby." 

"Love you too, mine. Don't forget...you're still mine, always. No matter how long...you're gone." Blair was dozing, and Jim was relieved in one way, heartbroken in another. Neither of them had the energy to make love again this fast, and Jim knew he had to leave while Blair was sleeping. The best way to ensure that was to let him fall into the dead sleep of the fully sated, and leave a bit earlier than planned. Now that leaving Blair was becoming a reality, Jim felt some small part of the anguish his more emotive partner had been wrestling with for the last twenty-four hours, and gave in to a few tears of his own. 

Blair was sound asleep, clinging to him, when Jim finally eased out of him. After the smaller man stirred and grumbled a little, he slid back into heavy sleep. Jim spent a few more hours just holding that precious body close, memorizing every little noise and smell and texture. 

Then, at four-thirty, he gently moved Blair aside, giving the groping arms one of his body-warmed pillows to hold, and slid out of bed. He stood there watching the love of his life sleeping, wanting to be sure he could slip out undetected. Clinging to the pillow, Blair frowned a bit, and Jim noticed a tear trickling out of the corner of Blair's eye. He wasn't awake, that much Jim knew from tuning into his vitals. But somehow he knew he was alone in their bed, and the spasmodic squeezing of the pillow wasn't satisfying him like encountering the firm resistance of Jim's well-toned body. 

Swallowing his inclination to dive back into bed and ravage Blair one last time before he left, Jim tore himself away, gathering his clothes and slipping downstairs to change and use the facilities. Blair was still sleeping when he finished, and with a stifled sob of his own, Jim reined in his emotions and picked up the bag he'd packed the night before from its resting place by the coat rack, and quietly left the loft. 

* * *

"Jim?" Blair shot up in the bed, which was now bathed in sunlight. The clock on the night stand read eight thirty. "Jim!" Blair scrambled to the railing and looked down on the empty apartment. "JIM!!!" he screamed uselessly, knowing the other man was well out of earshot. With a strangled sob, he slid back down into the mass of pillows and tangled sheets and finding the spot that most smelled like his lover, curled up there and cried. The nightmare was beginning. 

When he next raised his head, it was ten o'clock. Outside, the sounds of the city were going on as normal, as if this were any other Tuesday morning and not the end of the world. It was then that Blair spotted the large manilla envelope on the nightstand, bearing his name in Jim's handwriting. Sniffling, he pulled himself up to sit, groaning a little at the tenderness he encountered. He closed his eyes a moment, and prayed it was enough discomfort to last a while, to keep the memory of their last lovemaking physically alive. 

With a shaky hand, he opened the envelope and found nine business-sized white envelopes each bearing his name in black ink with a date beneath it, and a small white box containing Jim's wedding ring and the four leaf clover--neither of which he could wear when he was "in character". He opened the one dated that morning. 

"Dearest Chief, 

You'll never know how much it hurts to leave you. I don't know which one of us I was sparing by slipping away, but I knew I couldn't say goodbye for real. Wherever I am right now, know that my heart is as broken as yours, and my ache for you is as tangible and real as if someone stuck a knife in my chest. And I know what I'm talking about there--remind me to tell you that story when I get home." 

Blair paused to laugh a little at that, despite the tears that burned his painfully abused, puffed eyes. 

"You look like an angel when you sleep. When I go to bed at night in _his_ apartment, that's the vision I'll see. Any other time I've gone under, I've been able to _become_ my cover character with no problem. This time, he's just a part I'm playing, because becoming him would mean we didn't exist...I can't do that anymore. Having you torn away from me is like losing my heart and soul. I could more easily live without oxygen. 

"I know you're crying now, and I'd give everything I own to be there, to hold you, to kiss those poor sore eyes of yours and make the pain go away. But don't spend all your time hurting, baby. Go on with the routine, your schedule, the U, all the stuff you barely have time to do most of the time when I'm around. I'll be home soon, and I give you my word, I will _never_ do this again. Really. What I feel at the thought of leaving you--nothing is worth that. More than that, nothing is worth seeing you cry for nearly twenty-four hours straight. I'm married now, and I want this marriage more than anything I've ever had, or ever longed for. Maybe it took coming to the point of leaving you to make me understand that." 

"I've written you eight letters--I don't want to be gone more than two months, and if we do our job right, I won't be. Read one each week. I was going to do one for every day, but you and I both know I'd never have the patience to write sixty letters, even for you, sweetheart. Take care of my ring and my clover. I feel almost as much pain parting with them as I do parting with you." 

"I LOVE YOU. Remember that. And I WILL COME BACK TO YOU. This will be the longest few weeks of my life too, sweetheart. 
    
    
                             All my love forever, 
                             Jim"   
    

Blair clung to the letter, pressing it against his chest as he lay back down on the bed and found enough strength to sob again. 

* * *

Blair's life seemed to move from one letter to the next. He had no taste for food, and he only slept when he passed out on the couch grading papers. His pain seemed to run deeper now than tears, because they somehow seemed far too inadequate to ease his pain. Nothing but seeing Jim again could do that. 

The envelope containing the second letter instructed Blair to wait until midnight to open it. He settled on their bed at the appointed time and tore into the letter, already feeling a lump in his throat before he ever opened it to read Jim's words. 

"Lover, 

I'm lying in bed right now, naked, thinking about what it would be like to have your beautiful body blanketing me, what it would feel like to be inside you... Please, baby, touch yourself for me. I'm imagining making love to you right now...and this is what my hands are doing: I'm stroking your nipples, watching them harden, cataloging every texture of them as they turn into little pebbles of flesh on your chest. If I were really there, I'd be kissing every part of your body, devouring you, tasting you... Imagine that, because I am too... My hands are moving down your body, and gently playing with your balls. I know you like that. You're moaning a little now, spreading your legs wide. Finally, I'm taking a hold of your cock and pumping, making you gasp, stroking hard to make you come fast for me. I'm loving watching your beautiful face while you thrust into my hand, and then finally scream out my name while your body stiffens out, and you cover us both with come. Then I'm going to hold you, letting us get hopelessly stuck together, kissing you until you can't breathe. I'm there with you, baby. I can feel you, smell you, taste you...you're so beautiful, lover. And if you feel badly and you cry, it's okay, because I miss you so much every minute...I'm crying now too, just at the ache of being away from you. Hang on for me, angel. I'm coming home as soon as I can. 

Love, 

Jim" 

Despite what was probably Jim's hope to somehow touch Blair by remote control, all it did was reinforce to the younger man that his lover wasn't there to touch him, so he had to do it himself. Blair didn't blame Jim's letter or his idea. He was just too miserable to enjoy anything. 

* * *

The third letter reminisced about their relationship, how they met, their first reactions to each other, and how they made it to where they were. It was long--almost ten hand-written pages. Jim was not a letter-writer by nature, and his efforts in putting this together warmed Blair's soul more than the words. Curled up in the chaise lounger on the balcony, wrapped in a quilt and still far too susceptible to the cool air of springtime, Blair read the letter over several times until he had spent most of his day that way. Reliving their relationship had helped a little, but at the same time, it felt like a wake service--remembering the good times in a past era. 

It wasn't until it was too dark to read more and Blair's food-deprived body was shivering from the cool evening air that he moved inside, built a fire and curled up on the couch with the letter and Jim's robe, praying that the dream that had tortured his sleep for three weeks solid would leave him in peace: a majestic black jaguar caught in a trap, howling its anguish in an unholy wail, struggling to get away... 

* * *

"Dearest Blair, 

It's been four weeks. A month. I thought it would be over by now, but apparently things aren't going to wrap up as quickly as I thought. 

By now, the pain of being away from you is almost unbearable. Surviving a month without the other half of myself, without my heart and soul, is tearing me apart as much as it is you. I think about you all the time and the nights are hell missing you. 

By now, finals are over, and you're probably making some impressive progress on that dissertation--you'll never know how proud I am of you. Of my genius lover. So what makes you hang around with a dumb cop, huh? Oh, right. It's my giant throbbing rod of manhood. I keep forgetting." 

Blair chuckled a little weakly at the old joke between them, wiping at the tears that always fell when he read Jim's letters. 

"You're my whole life, Blair. I'm so sorry I've hurt you like this, left you and made you wait for me. We fought so damned hard to be together. But in a way, being put in charge of what is essentially a Vice operation is like a confirmation that we're okay. That we succeeded and life is still normal professionally. But even that isn't worth the pain this is causing both ways. I love you with all my heart and soul, sweetheart. I won't put anything above that, ever again. If I were there, I would hold you and kiss away the tears and make love to you until we were both exhausted. I'll be home soon. I promise you, angel. Take good care of yourself--you're the most precious thing in my world. 
    
    
                             All my love,
                             Jim"
    

The Blair that read the fourth letter was a pale ghost of the Blair that Jim had left behind a month earlier. Four weeks of subsistence eating, very little sleep, and constant worry had left dark circles under a very dull imitation of normally sparkling blue eyes. Blair had rebuffed most of Simon's attempts to get together with him or "look after him", as he was sure Jim had asked. Simon became the symbol for Jim's leaving, and Blair could barely stand to share the same space with him for more than a few minutes. On top of that, the only hope Blair had of retaining his sanity at all was to submerge himself in his university life, and try to pretend he'd never done anything else. Simon shattered that necessary fantasy just by his presence. 

Night after night, the black jaguar howled out its agony and writhed in its trap, tormenting Blair's beleaguered mind nearly to the breaking point every time he passed out in the empty bed from sheer exhaustion and sleep-deprivation. 

* * *

The fifth letter was upbeat, though artificially so. Jim didn't do "bouncy" well, and the letter fell flat as a pancake in its attempts to raise what Jim correctly predicted would be low morale. Blair was fighting off a miserable cold that he couldn't resist in his run-down state, and reading anything from Jim made him cry, and that made his congestion worse, which meant he ended up taking another shower just so he didn't suffocate, relying on the steam to give him some relief. 

Teaching a summer session of a freshman-level course wasn't exactly mentally challenging, and Blair fell back on his old lecture notes from prior semesters to guide him through it. That was not his style. He liked to approach each new class fresh and original. But even Rainier and its various commitments and activities held little importance for him now. If he could get through one night without the recurring nightmare of the trapped, obviously injured panther and one day keeping his mind on anything but what that symbolism suggested, he considered himself fortunate. 

* * *

"Sweetheart, 

Every day I'm gone, the days get a little longer and the whole job gets a little less important. All I see when I close my eyes is your face, your beautiful blue eyes, your smile... 

At night I feel the softness of your skin, the hair on your body tickling my skin, your curls falling like silk against my shoulder when you come into my arms. I remember the wonderful taste and smell of you as we kiss, then make love, then talk about something--our days, the meaning of life, the price of the bagels they sell downstairs. 

I know I won't be sleeping well without my angel in my arms. You're everything to me, Blair. You're the image that keeps me elevated above the slime I'm in the middle of everyday, and the thought of loving you again is what I live for. 

Remember to eat once in a while, get enough sleep, and take care of yourself, baby. Don't give Simon too much grief about trying to reach me. It's for my protection that he's holding to that rule. If there were any way to break it and not get myself killed, I'd be with you right now instead of letting written words touch you in place of my hands...my lips. But I'll be with you soon, sweetheart. Keep the faith. We're in the home stretch now. 

Love always, 

Jim" 

Blair felt such pain in his chest at the mere thought that it had been six weeks, and that he only had two letters left, that it was all he could do to open it at all. But he did, reading it curled up on the bed wrapped in one of Jim's old sweaters, and fell asleep with it pressed against his heart. Jim knew him too well. All this letter was was a prolonged, mushy profession of love and detailing of all the things about Blair that Jim would be missing as he came into the "home stretch" of his assignment. The words were what Blair needed, painful as they were in a way. They lulled the gaunt, pale, exhausted Blair that had lived through six weeks of emotional hell and constant fear into his first decent sleep since Jim left. 

* * *

Blair sighed as he tossed the salad and added a little more dressing. Eating alone had never been one of his favorite things to do, and since he'd moved in with Jim. Now that they were lovers, he downright hated it. //Six weeks in deep cover. Probably hasn't eaten a decent meal since his last night home,// Blair thought, shaking his head and smiling a little. Jim could still smell a glazed buttermilk donut a mile away, and his propensity for either eating nothing or eating something greasy while in motion could go unchecked now that his guide, partner and other half was separated from him. 

Carrying his solitary meal over to the table, Blair felt the tangible lump of pain in his chest at sitting there without Jim. //Separation sucks. It doesn't make the heart grow fonder because that isn't possible here. God, I miss him so much...// Blair pushed the lettuce around with his fork, then took a drink of the bottled water he'd set out for himself. 

Thinking back on that night and morning was like re-opening a raw wound, despite leaving the letters filled with all the beautiful words of love Jim knew his deserted lover would need to hear. Blair had felt the whole thing had sounded chillingly like an eight-step letter program to say goodbye...an "in case I don't make it back" souvenir for Blair to have and to hold, as if that could ever ease the pain of losing Jim. As if anything could. 

Blair finally carried the uneaten salad back to the sink and ground it up in the disposal. There wasn't much point in fixing meals anymore. They all ended up in the sewer system of Cascade. What Jim was doing was valuable, there was no denying that. The last alleged victim of the Bernardi family was a sixteen-year-old girl who was found beaten and stabbed in a dumpster. She was suspected of being one of their underage stable of girls, and was a runaway from Tacoma. Her mangled face had inspired Jim to suggest a more aggressive approach, and now he was in the middle of that horrible, dark, violent world. Alone. 

The ringing of the telephone was actually a welcome intrusion on what was to be another solitary evening of working on what was hopefully one of the final drafts of his dissertation. 

"Hello," Blair replied, lackluster. He knew it was never Jim on the other end of the line, as he had so fervently hoped in the first couple of weeks, despite the fact it was against every rule. That had never stopped Jim before. 

"Blair, it's Simon." 

"Is Jim all right?" Blair didn't like the sedate, kindly sound in Simon's voice. It was a precursor to a body blow of some kind, Blair was sure. 

"I'm not sure yet. This could be nothing, but there _is_ a chance his cover was blown." 

"Oh, God," Blair responded, dropping into the couch he was glad was behind him. His legs wouldn't have held up anyway. "What happened?" 

"Tina saw him get into a car with four other guys--a black limo. She said it looked like some of the organization's top muscle." Tina was the experienced policewoman who had been Jim's back-up throughout most of the operation. "He was meeting with Mick Bernardi, setting up the particulars of a major drug buy--it was supposed to be our chance to close in. Instead of coming out and getting into his own car, he left with the four goons." 

"So what are you guys doing to find him?" Blair demanded, taking the path of anger, since the other path was collapsing in a heap on the couch and sobbing uncontrollably. That wouldn't do Jim any good. 

"Take it easy, Sandburg. Jim's a good cop. He's experienced. He knows how to handle himself even in a tight spot like this. As far as what we're doing--we're doing everything we can without blowing his cover for sure. We don't know it was blown, and we also don't know if he might be able to do enough damage control to get himself out alive, and preserve his cover. If we storm in there now, and his cover wasn't completely blown before, we could get him killed." 

"You have to do _something_!" Blair insisted, running a hand back through his hair. Even that gesture tore at his heart, because the tug of his own hand at the back of his head was too much like the tug of Jim's hand tangled in his hair while they were making love. 

"We are. I'm waiting to hear back from our other undercover operatives. Our only hope here is that if Jim's cover was blown that all the others aren't at the same time." 

"You know he'll die before he'll sell them out, Simon." 

"I know that. But if they made one cop, they might have made them all, or at least more than one." 

"So when will you know?" 

"Soon, I hope." 

"You _hope_?" Blair repeated incredulously. 

"I can't blow their covers and get them killed by carelessly contacting them. We're talking multiple lives here, Sandburg. I know how you feel about this but--" 

"With all due respect, Simon, you have no fucking idea how I feel," Blair shouted back, tears straining his voice. "I didn't want him to do this. I begged you _both_ not to do this. I _knew_ something awful was going to happen! And now it has and you're sitting there telling me about how careful you have to be with everyone else! How about Jim? How careful were you with him? Maybe to you he's just another cop on your team, but to me, he's everything. So I don't think you have a single goddamned idea how I feel right now." 

"That isn't fair and you know it. Jim is a friend, and beyond that, I'd never carelessly endanger the lives of one of my men. You're acting like I consider Jim expendable somehow, and that's not the case." 

"But he's expendable to protect your operation! Dammit, Simon, _shut it down_! Get Jim out of there even if it means scrapping this whole thing. His life is more important that busting the Bernardi family! _That's_ what's making me angry here, man. You're being so fucking careful of everyone's cover because you don't want to blow the operation." 

"I don't want to blow Jim's cover if it isn't already, or if he can talk his way out of it." 

"But be honest with yourself, if not with me. You want this operation to go on--to leave those whose covers aren't blown, in place." Blair waited through a long silence. 

"These people run stables of underage kids selling their bodies on the street, push dope in schoolyards, and kill people who don't fall in line--" 

"I don't care. See, that's the liberating thing here. I don't give a shit about any of that right now. I want Jim back alive, and that's all that matters to me. Not a drug bust, not a murder conviction, not all the sad stories of runaways walking the streets--shit, Simon, even _I_ know they'd be in someone else's stable if not Bernardi's. All that matters to me in this operation is Jim." 

"Well, Sandburg, unfortunately I have four other undercover cops I have to worry about just as much as I do Jim, and if I pull the plug and drag them all back in, and we've misread this situation, we'll get Jim killed for sure. I know you're upset, so I'm going to take this outburst for what it's worth, and I'll call you back when we know something." And with that, Simon hung up the phone. 

"Fuck you!" Blair yelled into the phone to the dead line and then the dial tone. He sat on the couch, breathing heavily, wiping at his tears, and reached a decision. There was one way to find Jim, and that was to go looking for him. 

* * *

Blair checked his look in the mirror one more time. Putting the jeans through the dryer with plenty of heat had done the trick. He had ended up on his back on the bed, holding his breath to get them closed at all. The tight white briefs he'd worn to protect himself from zipper torture did nothing to detract from the rear view or the showcased family jewels up front. It was warm outside, another muggy June night in a series of many. The black tank shirt he wore would be adequate for the temperature, and displayed enough of the merchandise to make him believable as a party boy looking for a good time. 

He groaned a little as he tried to sit to pull on black boots he'd never actually worn before. Between the asphyxiation of the dryer-shrunk jeans and the pinching of his feet in the new boots, he wondered if he'd die from a lack of oxygen before he ever made it downtown. 

A last look at himself confirmed that he looked as hot and trashy as he could manage. He smiled when he thought of the fact that he never worried too much about looking sexy anymore, except to impress Jim. He always kept up his appearance, but he'd ceased to care what the opposite sex--or even interested members of the same sex-- thought of him in terms of sex appeal. 

"As soon as you're home, I'll have to wear this outfit for you, Big Guy," Blair said to the picture of the two of them Simon had taken at their wedding reception. It was a candid shot, one they weren't even aware was being taken until it showed up framed as a "wedding present" from Simon and Daryl. They were slow dancing, looking into each other's eyes, such a concentration and communication between them that the roof could have caved in, and as long as it took them out together, they wouldn't have noticed. Just then, the doorbell rang and a knock resounded in the silence of the apartment. 

Blair hurried downstairs and opened the door, to find Simon standing on the other side of it. The captain's eyes scanned Blair up and down once, registering surprise, not only at his choice of clothing but at the gauntness of the body in the clothes and the pallor about his face. 

"Going out?" he asked. 

"He's dead, isn't he?" Blair backed away from the door, what trace of color he still had draining out of his face. "Otherwise, you wouldn't--" 

"He's not dead, Blair. On the contrary. He's alive, down at Cascade General. He sent me to pick you up because he didn't want you driving like a chihuahua on speed to get there." 

"Oh, man! Thank God!" Blair started out the door but Simon grabbed him by the arm and hauled him back inside the apartment. 

"Go change your clothes, Blair. I don't even want to know what you were doing in this get-up, but you look like one of Bernardi's party boys." 

"I do?" Blair seemed almost pleased at that assessment. "How is he? I don't want him to have to wait--" 

"He's banged up, bruised. He took a nasty blow on the head, so they're keeping him overnight. But he should be fine. Probably can go home tomorrow if all goes well." 

"What happened?" 

"I'll tell you on the way. Now go change into something that isn't going to embarrass Jim." There was a tone of accusation in Simon's voice, as if he thought Blair had been up to something. 

"Be right back." Blair fled up the steps, and Simon could hear drawers opening and zippers ripping and even watched as the black tank shirt flew up in the air over the railing and landed on the floor of the living room. Yes, Sandburg was moving with his usual speed now. 

Once in Simon's car, the captain began to explain as much as he knew about Jim's arrival at the hospital. 

"Apparently, one of Bernardi's guys recognized Jim from a newspaper article--ironically, he had some old newspapers piled up in his house to recycle--I just love it when the underworld cares about the environment." Simon shook his head. "Anyway, he saw Jim's photo, and tipped off Mick Bernardi, so when Jim showed up for their meeting, he was hauled off by the muscle for a little Q &A session." 

"But you said he's gonna be okay--how bad is it?" 

"He took a pretty good beating. He's banged up, has a few cracked ribs, and a concussion from a blow to the back of the head." 

"If he was knocked out, how did he get away?" 

"He was rescued--though I guess he was conscious at the time, he could have never moved fast enough to get away on his own. Tina made contact with the rest of the undercover team, and between all four of them, they figured out where he was likely to be taken, called for some unofficial off-duty back up and their instincts were 100%. He was in an old warehouse on the waterfront, a spot Bernardi often uses for his...personnel management activities, if you catch my drift. He drifted in and out of consciousness in the ambulance. According to Tina, who rode with him, the first thing he said was 'Chief'." Simon snorted a little laugh. "Of course the 'love you, sweetheart' that followed threw her a little." 

"She doesn't know about me, huh?" Blair asked, still reeling a little from the shock and relief of knowing Jim was not only all right, but that the operation was over. He'd be taking his life partner back home where he belonged, probably within the next 24 hours. 

"She knew he was married, but she didn't know he called his spouse 'Chief'--or that he was married to a man. I guess she asked him once how long he'd been married when she saw his ring, and she said he just smiled and said about nine months. When she asked about kids, he just laughed and said 'not likely'." 

"Nine months...he remembered," Blair said, more to himself than Simon. He was thinking of the night they made love, then, still joined, exchanged their private marriage vows. 

"I was thinking his timetable was a little screwy," Simon responded, turning into the parking lot of the hospital. 

"We promised each other forever about nine months ago--well, almost ten months ago now. That happened before the party at Valentine's Day." Blair paused, swallowing hard on the flood of emotions that were threatening his tenuous control. "So the operation's over?" 

"Shot to hell. I wish Tina had called in her idea, but she just rounded up the other Vice cops plus their 'back-up'-- Rafe and Brown--and I need to have a talk with those two adventurers--and took it upon herself to go in and get Jim out. She told me she was worried her captain wouldn't approve blowing their covers if she put it through channels." 

"Was she wrong?" Blair asked as Simon pulled into a parking spot. 

"Partly. I would have been behind her if there was good reason to believe Jim was in there. But I don't think Cameron would have. Working with Vice has been...a bit strained at times, after the whole mess with Walker and his buddies last year." Simon turned off the engine and the two men hurried up to the hospital entrance. "He's probably settled in his room by now. They were taking him up to the fourth floor," Simon explained as they entered the elevator. 

Jim had been settled in a private room at the end of a long corridor. As Blair approached the door, Simon fell back a bit. 

"I'll be in the waiting room down the hall." 

"Thanks, Simon. Look, I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I was--" 

"No apology necessary, Blair. I understood." 

"I'm glad," Blair smiled slightly and nodded, then headed for Jim's door. 

As soon as he pushed it open and saw the familiar form in the bed, Blair felt all his controls falling away. When Jim turned his head and smiled tiredly toward him, Blair flew over to the bed and landed as lightly as he could on the edge of it, a hand on either side of Jim's bruised face. 

"I love you, mine. I missed you so much," Blair blurted, resting his forehead against Jim's, wanting to kiss him but not sure if the pressure would be welcome on the swollen mouth. Tears ran down his cheeks and landed on Jim's as the other man's hands slid up into Blair's hair, pulling him in for a gentle but prolonged kiss. 

"God, Chief, you're a bag of bones," Jim said in a husky voice, still stroking his lover's damp face. Blair hadn't eaten more than a few bites here and there when he felt light-headed since Jim left. His insides hurt with the separation, and his spirit was so thoroughly crushed that he really couldn't find it within himself to care. 

"I can put it back on fast enough," Blair responded, smiling through tears. "When Simon told me your cover was blown, I thought..." Blair shook his head and bit his lip. 

"I know, baby. I know. I thought so too. Come here. You won't break anything." Jim pulled the smaller body into his arms, Blair knowing enough to avoid the cracked ribs on the opposite side of his lover's body. It was awkward, but Jim's living warmth and the strength in those big arms encircling him was just what Blair needed most to feel, and Jim knew it. "Blair, did you eat at all while I was gone?" Jim was running his hand over the knobby spine that seemed to protrude through Blair's skin. 

"I didn't care," Blair said honestly, his breath caressing Jim's neck. "Every time I tried, I felt sick inside." 

"But you knew I'd be coming home, sweetheart. It was hard being apart, but--" 

"I knew you'd come home, but I didn't know if it would be like this, or...or if the next time I saw you you'd be on Dan Wolf's table," Blair sobbed into Jim's neck. "I had...such a bad feeling...about this whole...thing." Blair shuddered at the thought of his portentous nightmare, and thanked every deity he'd ever learned about that it hadn't been the harbinger of a more horrendous outcome. 

"I know you did, baby. Shit, I should have listened to you." Jim sighed as Blair cried quietly against his neck. "This whole thing was a fucking disaster. Now the whole operation's dead in the water." 

"Fuck the operation!" Blair shot into a sitting position. "I don't care anything about that! I'm so sick of hearing about what an important operation this was. It wasn't worth the risk!" 

"No, you're right," Jim responded in a tired, sad voice, stroking Blair's cheek. 

"How badly are you hurt?" Blair asked, trying to shift the focus off himself, and onto the patient. 

"I'll live. Won't be running any marathons for a while, but I'll make it." 

"What'd the doctor say? Simon said you had a concussion." 

"A mild one. They're going to monitor me tonight and then let me out of here." 

"It's gonna be so good to have you home again." Blair grinned, happily for the first time in many long weeks. 

"I'd really like you to stick around...if you don't mind. I mean, tonight," Jim said, almost in a whisper. 

"Try and get rid of me," Blair replied, delighted with Jim's open request for him to stay, and a little unnerved by the neediness in his voice at the same time. 

"So you must be Jim's other half," a female voice from the door caught both men's attention. A tall blonde in jeans and a grey sweatshirt stood there, smiling pleasantly. "Tina Merriweather," she said, walking across the room to shake hands with Blair, who stood up and hugged her instead. 

"Thank you for going after him." He stepped back, smiling a little self-consciously. "I'm sorry. I'm just...so grateful for what you did." 

"I had the sinking feeling that Cameron would drag his feet, so I figured we better move in while we still could. How're you doing, Jim?" Tina was attractive, about Jim's age, and obviously a very good cop. In days past, Blair might have been threatened by her. Now, he just smiled and relaxed, happy when Jim's colleagues accepted their relationship and when they treated Jim with the kindness and respect he deserved. 

"I've been better," he responded, forcing a smile. "Thanks for bringing in the troops." Something significant seemed to pass between them then, almost like the conspiring look that passes between two friends with a secret. 

"You'd have done the same for me. I was going to say 'take care of yourself', but I think you'll have plenty of help in that department." She smiled at Blair and began moving toward the door. 

"Thanks for stopping by, Tina," Jim added. 

"Thanks for everything," Blair concurred, taking a hold of Jim's hand and grinning brightly. 

"Anytime. Get some rest. You look like hell, Ellison." She laughed a little and exited, pulling the door shut behind her. 

"I like her," Blair said, still holding Jim's hand. "Well, I mean, sure I like her because she orchestrated getting you out of that mess alive, but she seems really nice." 

"She's a damn good cop, too. She actually got promoted to a sort of supervisory position in Bernardi's prostitution operation, which is quite an accomplishment considering she only got picked up by undercover cops." 

"I brought you something," Blair said, pulling the small white box out of the pocket of his jacket. He opened it, and as Jim held out his hand, carefully slipped the wedding band back into place. 

"Feels like being home, sweetheart." 

"Then there's this guy. I really wish I could have sent this with you--for luck." Blair clasped the clover pendant around Jim's neck and tucked it under the neck of the hospital gown." 

"I love you, Blair. God how I missed you." Jim reached up and stroked Blair's face gently. The younger man's eyes drifted shut and he kissed Jim's palm, holding the hand against his cheek. 

"I'm glad you're home, lover." 

The two men talked about the case a while, until Jim's head started bothering him and fatigue got the better of him. He finally dozed off to sleep with Blair still holding his hand. 

* * *

When Simon returned to Jim's room, he had to smile at the sight that greeted him. Ellison was dead to the world, with Sandburg having managed to insinuate himself onto the narrow bed on the side of Jim's body that did not sport cracked ribs. His head was pillowed on Ellison's shoulder, their joined hands resting on the broad chest, fingers entwined. Blair's respiration was as deep and even as his lover's. 

Smiling when he realized the skinny, pale, jittery character he picked up at the loft probably hadn't slept anymore than he'd eaten in the last six weeks, Simon backed out of the room and left his star detective to his rest and the TLC of his partner. 

Riding down in the elevator, alone there at this late hour, Simon replayed in his mind his terse conversations with Blair, and Blair's accusations that he was putting the operation above Jim's life. The thought nagged at him, hounded him, and made him re-evaluate his entire reaction to the news of Ellison's potential kidnapping earlier that day. What had his first thought really been? 

//My first thought was that I hoped he wasn't in a landfill with a bullet in his head like the last guy the Bernardi family were suspected of killing.// Excusing himself somewhat, since he honestly could say he'd been worried about Ellison first, and then the operation, he wearily made his way out to the parking lot and then drove back to headquarters. The slight ease in the pounding in his head was short-lived. As soon as he walked into the bullpen, he spotted Cameron pacing angrily outside the door of his office. Squaring his shoulders and preparing for battle, Simon strode across the room and walked briskly past the other man. 

"Waiting for me, Cameron?" he asked abruptly, entering his office and tossing his keys on the desk. 

"You're damn right I'm waiting for you, Banks. Where the hell is Ellison?" 

"He's still hospitalized. He has a concussion." 

"I knew this would be a disaster from the outset--putting that loose cannon at the head of a major undercover operation." 

"What's that supposed to mean? Ellison was recognized from an old newspaper photo. If anyone's to blame here, it's us--for not thinking of that and being better prepared for it." 

"I should have known after the way things went down last year that you'd cover his ass no matter how bad he fucked up this operation." 

"First of all, what happened last year was an abomination. We're still fortunate Sandburg didn't choose to go to the press with his story. As it was, your three stooges caused this department more bad press with that incident than we've had in years." 

"Since the last time your department fucked up and worked hand in hand with David Lash, possibly." 

"Is this all there is to this meeting? If so, I have better things to do with my time than trade insults." Simon took a seat behind his desk and began ostentatiously sorting the paperwork on top of it. A beefy hand slapped down on top of the papers to still the movement. 

"We're not finished, Banks," Cameron growled. Simon was silent a moment. Without looking up, his voice came out in a deep, ominous tone. 

"Get your hand off my desk and back off." Simon finally glared up at the other man, who complied and began pacing again. 

"At least I have your attention now." 

"Look, an operation went belly up because one of our people was recognized. We managed to get everyone out alive. Operations fall apart sometimes. It's a hell of a lot harder to dismiss it and chalk it up to experience when you have dead cops to show for it. We were lucky. All our people are intact--thanks to Merriweather." 

"That arrogant bitch is going to be lucky to hold down a meter maid job when I get through with her! She went against every rule in the book. She circumvented any kind of proper protocol and took it upon herself to pull the plug on the operation to save Ellison's sorry ass." 

"What is your problem with Ellison, anyway? Is this still some ridiculous prejudice or some kind of grudge from last year?" 

"I told you from the outset that one of my guys should be at the head of this operation. You put some love-struck faggot in charge and then wonder why it collapses." 

"Get out of my office. Now." Simon rose from his chair, eyes blazing and nostrils flaring. 

"Don't worry. I'm leaving your office. My next stop is the commissioner." 

"To tell him what? That you can't handle working in the same department with Ellison because one of your men is dead and two others in prison because of their criminal behavior with Ellison's partner--among other things?" 

"Possibly to tell him that Ellison managing to get himself in the middle of a kidnapping situation and needing rescuing cost us our case." 

"You do what you have to do, Cameron. But I am behind my people and their actions in this situation 100%." 

"I haven't even begun to deal with the issue of Rafe and Brown joining Merriweather's little rescue party." 

"Don't bother dealing with it. No reprimands are coming through this office for those men for helping to save a colleague, any more than I'm going to reprimand Ellison for being recognized. We knew this was a risky situation at the outset. We also knew the chances of placing and keeping this many undercover operatives and not having one of them be made were slim. It only lasted as long as it did because we had the very best on that team, including Jim Ellison." 

"I think the commissioner might have other ideas," Cameron headed for the door. 

"You might not get the reaction you're looking for, Cameron. Think well before you go on a crusade upstairs." Simon went back to his paperwork as if they had been discussing the weather. The door slammed decisively. 

Simon looked up at the closed door and watched as the venetian blinds finished swaying from the impact. He had wondered how long it would be before Ellison's flagrant openness about his relationship with Sandburg came back to bite him on the ass. There were some good, broad-minded people on the team at the Cascade PD, but there were a good number of bigoted jerks like Cameron who would love nothing more than to get rid of a gay cop, not to mention his long-haired boyfriend. 

Most disturbing of all, Simon couldn't shake the feeling that something was going on he didn't know about--that Ellison knew more than he was saying. 

* * *

Blair felt his back make sudden contact with the safety rail on the side of Jim's bed. He had raised it when he first slipped into bed with his lover, figuring the narrow confines of the bed made rolling onto the floor a very real possibility. He forced his eyes open and focused on Jim. He was out of breath, holding onto his ribs, looking almost green. Not taking time out to question why Jim looked the way he did, Blair grabbed the handy beige plastic dish on the nightstand and stuck it under Jim's chin just in time to catch the results of a violent bout of vomiting. 

"Try to relax, babe. I've got you," Blair murmured soothingly, not even able to imagine what kind of pain the heaving had caused Jim, given his injuries from the beating. Satisfied the vomiting was over, Blair set the dish on the table again and turned his attentions to cuddling closer to Jim and stroking his face and hair until the worst of the ragged breathing evened out. 

"Get that away from me, please, Blair," Jim groaned, indicating the dish on the night stand. Realizing it was ten times as offensive to Jim's heightened sense of smell as it was to Blair, he carefully eased out of the bed and cleaned up the mess. 

"You want me to call the nurse?" Blair offered, returning to Jim's bedside with a cool cloth. He perched on the side he had occupied before and bathed Jim's face gently. 

"No. I need the bathroom." Jim started to get up but Blair put a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

"We've got one of those handy dandy portable pissers right here," Blair announced, waving the plastic bottle at Jim, who, surprisingly, chuckled a little, holding onto his tormented ribs. 

"I can always count on you to phrase things delicately, Chief." Jim was still smiling a bit as Blair shrugged, grinning, and helped Jim with his needs. Blair was glad his lover seemed relaxed with letting him help, but then wouldn't have had any idea why he wouldn't be. Since they'd been roommates, they'd been through several significant injuries with each other, and a couple of rather unpleasant flu bugs. They had always helped each other out, to whatever extent the other allowed it, and since they'd become lovers, the marginal inhibitions that were there before had disappeared. 

"Jim, there's blood..." Blair trailed off as he headed for the bathroom with the bottle, then stopped dead in his tracks to look back at his lover. 

"Don't sweat it, sweetheart. The doctor said I'd probably pass blood for a couple days. I took a couple pretty healthy kicks." 

"Shit," Blair mumbled, disappearing into the bathroom to empty the bottle and wash his hands. 

"Not my finest moment," Jim said softly, shifting to make it clear he wanted Blair back where he had been before, nestled against him in the bed. "Barfing in a bowl and pissing in a bottle." 

"You're alive to do both things, that's all I care," Blair responded bluntly, crawling back into Jim's bed and pulling the side rail up behind him. "Are you sure you're comfortable with me here?" 

"Oh yeah. You're like a human metronome, only a hell of a lot warmer." Jim shivered a little then. "I can't seem to get warm." 

"I'll get you another blanket." Blair was up and in motion again, and Jim just smiled at the smaller man's easy willingness to serve, and utter lack of concern for his own comfort or rest. Blair located a blanket on the shelf in the closet and returned, spreading it solicitously over Jim in a double thickness, then returned to his sleeping spot. 

"Better. Thanks, Chief." Jim kissed his lover's forehead and let his eyes drift shut. 

"Were you having a nightmare before? I was wondering if one of the pain meds was giving you a reaction. You know, I was worried about them pumping that stuff into you--" 

"It was just a nightmare, baby. Nothing for you to worry about. I'm okay now." 

"You want to talk about it?" 

"No. Too tired," Jim responded, knowing fatigue had nothing to do with his silence. Relieved that Blair wasn't the one with heightened senses, he hid behind that story, and Blair believed him, settling down and letting his body relax. 

Blair soon drifted off to sleep again, curled up against Jim. The older man looked down at him, and wondered how long their relationship would survive now that he would be a dysfunctional mess in the bedroom. How long could even Blair be so magnanimous as to stay devoted exclusively to him when there was nothing physical binding them together? He knew he had a loyal friend for life in Blair, but the only difference between their friendship and their marriage were some verbalized vows...and sex. 

And the closeness. That wonderful closeness Jim had never experienced with anyone else. Seeing someone's face light up every time he entered a room. Feeling the most precious thing in the world breathing against him at night. Sitting cuddled on the couch, watching TV and joking around like they always did, only sharing the same personal space. So would he have to give that up now? That had come as a by-product of their love changing to romantic and physical love. When that was gone, what would happen to the closeness? 

Jim was relieved that his exhausted lover, boneless with the relief of sleeping in Jim's embrace again, was too deeply asleep to feel the tremors of tears coursing through his body. 

Continued in part [two](secretlife1.html).


	2. Chapter 2

Due to the length of this story, it's been split into nine parts for easier loading.

## The Secret Life of J.J. Rush

by Candy Apple

Continued from part one.

* * *

**THE SECRET LIFE OF J.J. RUSH - part two**

by 

Candy Apple 

"Look, Chief, I'm not interested in eating this crap. I just threw up three hours ago." Jim pushed the table with the breakfast tray on it away from him. 

"I'll fix you something later." Blair took the tray into the bathroom and flushed most of the food, then put it back on the table and wheeled it away from the bed, so the smell wasn't nagging at Jim constantly. The cleared plate would make the hospital staff happy, and Jim was relieved that his lover wasn't making a federal issue out of it. 

"Morning, gentlemen," Simon greeted as he walked in the door. "I figured you wouldn't be up to filling out reports this morning, so I thought I could get your story on tape and handle the paperwork." 

"Hey, Simon," Blair greeted pleasantly, returning to his seat at the foot of Jim's bed. "That's great. I was worried he was gonna go back to work as soon as they released him." Blair smiled affectionately at his somewhat subdued partner. 

"Have you eaten yet this morning, Sandburg?" Simon asked. Jim silently scolded himself for being so damned insensitive to Blair's needs. It was obvious he hadn't been eating most of the time he was alone, and the tray of cold breakfast food he scraped down the toilet probably would have fed him pretty well when it was warm. 

"I'll grab something later." 

"Why don't you take a break? I'll keep an eye on him for you," Simon nodded toward Jim. 

"Actually, I do want to go home and get Jim some fresh clothes and stuff. Could you stick around a while?" 

"I don't need a sitter, Chief," Jim spoke up. 

"No, but a guard maybe." Blair shared a moment of prolonged eye contact with his lover, then leaned down for a brief kiss good-bye before heading toward the door. 

"Hey, Sandburg," Simon caught Blair's attention and tossed him a set of keys. "You don't have a car downstairs, remember? I'll be staying with Jim anyway while you're gone, so take mine." 

"Wow. Thanks, Simon. I'll be back in an hour, tops," he directed at Jim. 

"Make it two, Blair. I'll be here a while yet, and I want you to eat something and not drive like a lunatic," Jim responded. 

"Not in _my_ car, anyway," Simon added, smiling a little. 

"Okay. Call me on the cell phone if you need me." 

"I think I'll be okay," Jim added with an affectionate smile. Blair blushed a little and nodded, heading out the door. 

"You're going to have to have a little talk with him, Jim." 

"What do you mean?" Jim frowned at the seriousness in Simon's voice. 

"When he knew there was a problem, that your cover might be blown, I think he was getting ready to go after you himself." 

"He knows better, Simon." 

"Have you looked at him lately? He's a skeleton. A zombie. Picture the man you see now, only without any of the life in him. He's different around you--more like the old Blair now that you're back. But he didn't handle this well, and when I went to the loft to get him, he was...well, quite frankly, dressed like one of Bernardi's male whores ready to cruise the clubs." 

"Oh great." Jim rolled his eyes. 

"I just want you to be sure to line him out about this, Jim. I don't want him getting killed the next time you go undercover." 

Jim let Simon's admonition pass, not mentioning that it would be a cold day in hell when he ever went undercover again. Instead, he began spinning the tale of his ordeal--or at least the "for publication" version, as Simon sat with his tape recorder rolling, asking a few clarifying questions. 

* * *

Blair's first stop was the McDonald's near the hospital. He'd never been so ravenous in his life, and he devoured the Egg McMuffin and hash browns, gulping down the large juice. He sat at a small table near the window, figuring that eating in Simon's car was tempting fate. All he needed was to take the captain's pristine car back to him with a big orange juice stain on the front seat. 

As he sipped the last of the juice, he contemplated whether or not to order two more of the sandwiches, six orders of hash browns, a couple Big Macs and a few pies, just to catch up for the last few weeks of starvation. Laughing at the food fantasy, his thoughts soon became serious again as he revisited the previous night in his memory. Jim's nightmare and attendant bout of vomiting seemed extreme under the circumstances. Jim had been in tight spots before, and given his Covert Ops background, he'd probably seen--hell, maybe even _done_ \-- things that were a hell of a lot worse than getting beaten up in an old warehouse. 

Blair never asked about Jim's military background, nor did he put his lover on the spot to explain things he may have done in the past. It was just that--in the past--and the Jim Ellison that Blair knew and loved was kind, gentle and ethical. If he was ever anything else, it was in another lifetime. One thing was true though--if Jim had seen some horrible action in Covert Ops, what exactly happened that had affected him so profoundly this time? 

Finishing his drink, Blair massaged his temples. He was tired, and now that he'd eaten, the easiest thing in the world to do would be to go home and sleep for a week. That wouldn't be easy, though, until he could curl around Jim while he did it. On that thought, he regained his old energy and disposed of his trash, then hurried out to Simon's car and drove to the loft. 

As he fumbled with the keys to unlock the front door, a voice startled him. 

"Blair! Hey, how's Jim?" Blair turned to see Stan, their neighbor, just arriving at his own front door, dressed as if he'd been out jogging. It was a nice morning, June sunshine bathing everything in what was a rare golden glow for an otherwise gray Cascade. 

"He'll be fine. I'm bringing him home from the hospital later." Blair finished unlocking the door. "Why do you ask?" Blair looked up, puzzled, realizing that while Stan knew Jim was working on a case, he hadn't told the other man that Jim had run into any problems. 

"It's in the paper this morning. Well, I mean, they didn't give the guy's name, but when they said an 'undercover operation gone bad' and said that the lead investigator on the case had been identified and abducted...and that he was in the hospital but they couldn't get any information on his condition, I kind of put two and two together." Stan ran a hand back through his thick sandy hair. He was slightly shorter and a few years younger than Jim, with hazel eyes and a pleasant smile. 

"Yeah, well, he's gonna be okay. Got roughed up." 

"If there's anything I can do to help out--" 

"Thanks, Stan, but I'm taking some time off from the U, so I think we'll have it covered." Blair smiled, hoping he wasn't being unnecessarily rude. He also realized he'd let his guard down around Stan in Jim's absence, since their neighbor was friendly, seemed sensitive to how miserable Blair really was during that time, and was a good listener. The most intense contact they'd had was riding down in the elevator together and getting a bagel from the bakery a couple mornings, but Jim still wouldn't appreciate the stepped up fraternization with this man he was sure wanted to share more than a bagel with Blair. So now would have to be the time to start putting up a few more barriers again. 

"I hope that Jim being home doesn't mean I won't be seeing you around anymore. I've really enjoyed getting to know you, Blair." 

"We're not going anywhere." Blair smiled what he hoped was a friendly smile, but not too much so. 

"I know damn well Jim doesn't like me." 

"That's not true." 

"Come on, Blair. He bristles if I say 'good morning'. When you had the flu this winter and I asked how you were doing, he said you were fine--which is a crock of shit when you're in the middle of the flu. When I asked a couple other questions, he asked me why I was so interested. He's got a major jealousy thing going on." 

"Look, Stan, I really appreciated your moral support and everything, but I have to get going. As far as Jim's concerned, I'm with him. Permanently. And if my talking to you or spending time with you makes him uncomfortable in any way...that's gotta be my first concern." 

"Oh, so it's like that," Stan nodded, grinning knowingly. 

"Like what?" 

"You're the submissive, huh? I never wouldn't have pictured you guys being into that." 

"Not only are you way out of the ball park, but it's none of your damn business what goes on between Jim and me. Now if you'll excuse me." Blair stormed into the loft and slammed the front door decisively behind him. Checking his watch, he rolled his eyes at the time he'd wasted and hurried upstairs. 

He found the jeans he'd discarded the night before in favor of the less form-fitting pair he was now wearing. He smiled at the thought of putting his party boy outfit together for Jim's benefit when he was feeling better, and folded up the faded jeans. He quickly changed the bed and tidied up the bedroom until it looked as orderly as it always did when Jim was home. Checking the time again, he dug out a pair of Jim's favorite old jeans and a grey t-shirt, then laughed at his choice and instead pulled out a navy t-shirt. Blair was already wearing jeans and a grey t-shirt. //Matching outfits--yeah, Jim'd love that idea!!// Blair was still smiling as he packed a gym bag with the clothes, Jim's shaving kit, fresh underwear and socks. Groaning, he moved all of it around to fit Jim's shoes in the bottom of it, then neatly arranged everything again, having corrected the oversight. 

He was on his way downstairs when there was a knock at the door. Setting the bag on the table, he opened it. Stan was on the other side. 

"Look, Blair, I was really out of line with what I said, and I'd like to apologize. It's really no big secret that I'd like us to be friends, and I don't like the fact that there's no chance of that once Jim's back on the scene. I just felt sorry to see that possibility go up in smoke. I had no right to say a thing like that." 

"Let's just forget it happened. I really have to go, Stan." 

"Right. Do you need a lift or anything?" 

"No. I have a friend's car. Thanks anyway." Blair ducked back into the apartment and grabbed the bag. "I'm late already, man. See you later." 

"Yeah, later." 

* * *

Blair pulled into the parking lot about fifteen minutes past the two-hour mark, amazed at how much better he felt even after the small breakfast he'd had. His mind was already processing possibilities for lunch, and he'd decided to fix them soup and make sandwiches out of the chicken he'd baked and then put back in the refrigerator almost untouched the night before last. He was surprised to see Simon pacing around in front of the hospital entrance, smoking a cigar. 

"Hey, Simon, sorry I'm late." He handed the captain back his keys. "I ran into a neighbor, and he asked about Jim. Is everything okay?" 

"Fine. Jim just needed a little time to himself, so I came down here." 

"Doesn't he need a guard?" 

"There's a uniformed man outside his room." 

"Oh." Blair was still a little puzzled, but he knew Jim didn't feel well, and it wasn't all that unusual that he'd want some time to himself. "Thanks for the car loan. Only thing is, now I'm stuck here again." 

"I'll drive you both back to the loft. Go on up and see how long before you can round him up. Call me on my cell phone." 

"Sure. Thanks again." 

"Anytime." Simon smiled slightly, and Blair hurried into the building and finally made it to Jim's room in record time. 

"Sandburg wardrobe service has arrived," Blair announced cheerily, but noticed that Jim's gaze didn't move from the window. "Jim?" Blair asked cautiously, afraid for a moment that Jim had reverted back to his old zone-out problem. 

"Yeah, Chief. Just resting." 

"I brought your clothes and stuff. How long before you can get out of here." 

"Anytime. I signed all the forms about a half hour ago." 

"Sorry I'm late. I stopped to get something to eat, and I wanted to change the bed and fix things up a little." Blair put the railing down and sat on the edge of the bed. "Jim, is everything okay?" Blair reached up to caress his lover's cheek with the backs of his fingers. 

"Just tired, sweetheart." Jim captured the hand with his own and kissed it. "Guess I better get dressed so we can get out of here." Jim shifted painfully in the bed and sat up with a groan that Blair chalked up to the painful movement of cracked ribs. 

Moving out of Jim's way, Blair was instantly in a crouch on the floor, pulling socks on Jim's feet before they had to hit the cold floor. It was a warm day, but somehow, bare feet hitting cold linoleum was never a nice sensation. 

"Just relax, lover. Let me help you." Blair sprang up and began working on the ties at the back of Jim's hospital gown. He bit his lip to avoid saying anything about the panorama of blue and purplish bruises that peppered Jim's back and shoulders. "I brought jeans and your navy Jags t-shirt. I hope that's okay," Blair said conversationally, pretending that seeing Jim's body in this pummeled condition wasn't tearing his heart out by the roots. 

"Anything's fine." Jim cooperated with Blair's determination to dress him. Twisting and turning couldn't be comfortable under the circumstances, but Blair was still surprised and relieved his normally fiercely independent lover was letting him help. With the shirt in place, Blair pulled the underwear and slacks out of the bag. "I'll take care of this part myself, Chief. Why don't you go find Simon and tell him we'll be ready in five, huh?" 

"He told me to call him on his cell phone. He's outside sucking down one of those ten foot long cancer logs." 

"I seem to recall someone else I know sucking one of those down." 

"Once, at the track, after you got your award that night. I smelled that stuff for, like, days. Once was enough." 

" _You_ smelled it for days," Jim added, rolling his eyes. 

"Oh, yeah, I guess you smelled it too, huh?" Blair smiled a little guiltily and took a hold of Jim's arm on his good side. "Come on, babe. Just stand up and step out of those and into these, huh? No point in you stooping and messing up your ribs." 

"All right." Jim followed the directive, too tired to fight. Within moments, the fresh underwear was in place, the old stuff tossed in with the pile of tangled sheets left for the hospital laundry as Blair recognized it wasn't Jim's own, and disposed. Jim felt some relief that Blair didn't appear to see any type of blood or other evidence of Jim's as yet hidden injuries. 

Shortly thereafter, Jim was fastening his own belt while Blair pulled out his shaving kit. 

"You want to shave before we go?" 

"I guess I should." 

"Not necessarily. I can deal with the rugged look." Blair smiled brightly, and Jim returned it to the best of his ability. 

"I don't care about doing it now, sweetheart." 

"No problem. Just have a seat while I tie your shoes." 

"I'm fine like this. I'll just step into them. I don't want to pull myself up and down many more times," Jim explained. Blair again finished his task quickly, then tidied things up. 

"I'll go get the nurse with the wheelchair." 

"No. Let's just get out of here." 

"But that's their rule, man. Besides, you need to take it easy." 

"Walking to the elevator and the car won't kill me." 

"Let me warn Simon then so he can bring the car around." 

"All right." Jim began to pace slowly, and Blair watched him worriedly as he made the call to Simon. The other man's usually smooth gait was slow and almost unsteady. Jim was in a great deal of pain, that much was obvious. But it seemed like more than just his side, or a bad headache. 

"Simon'll be out front in about five, so we can start--" 

"Mr. Ellison, I thought you might be getting ready to leave." A young nurse in a turquoise smock entered the room, smiling brightly and wheeling an empty chair in front of her. 

"That won't be necessary," Jim snapped, making a gesture toward the chair with one hand. 

"It's hospital policy," she replied, still smiling. 

"I said it won't be necessary," he repeated, in a much more menacing tone. 

"Mr. Ellison--" 

"Get that fucking thing out of here now! I said _no_ and that's what I mean!" he shouted at the startled girl, who made a hasty retreat out of the room before Blair could get his mouth open to apologize to her for Jim's outburst. 

"Jim, come on man, she's just doing her job." 

"You put a sock in it, Sandburg. I'm not riding out of here in any goddamned wheelchair. Is that clear? I still have a few rights left here." 

"Nobody's trying to take away your rights. Everyone leaves the hospital in a wheelchair. It's no big thing." 

"I'm walking out of here under my own power." Jim started for the door, his gait still too slow but distinctly improved with his own determination to move unassisted. 

"Look, it's just--" 

"Are you going to stand there and keep bitching or are you coming with me? I'm leaving." 

"Right behind you, lover," Blair responded softly, picking up the bag and following Jim. When they were out in the hall, Jim draped an arm over Blair's shoulders, in a gesture that spoke more of a need for support than affection. Blair still mirrored it, putting his arm loosely around Jim's waist. 

"I didn't mean to yell at you, baby," Jim finally said quietly as they boarded the elevator, both men relieved to be its sole occupants. 

"It's okay, love. I know it's been an ugly coupla days and you feel like shit right now." Blair carefully stroked Jim's back, mindful of the bruising there. "Things'll look better when you've had time to rest a little, and when you feel better." Blair didn't say anything else for a few moments, but finally let his head rest against Jim's shoulder briefly. "I'm so glad you're back," he murmured in a strained voice. 

"So am I, baby." Jim tangled his hand in Blair's hair a moment and kissed the top of his head. Not only did he love Blair with all his heart, but he needed a reason to be happy he'd survived his ordeal, and that reason was standing right by his side. 

* * *

The ride to the loft was characterized by strained small talk, mostly between Blair and Simon. This was even more awkward since Jim had been loaded into the passenger seat in front in deference to his long legs and the difficulty he would have folding up in a back seat given his injuries. Jim missed most comments that were directed to him, so both of the other men soon took the hint and let him ride in silence. Blair ended up sharing an anecdote about trying to help Stan corral one of his escaped pigeons in the other man's apartment, which got plenty of laughs out of Simon, but stony silence out of Jim. 

Blair cursed himself for bringing the neighbor into the conversation, but he honestly hadn't thought much about it upsetting Jim until he was halfway into the story. There was such a complete lack of interest in anything sexual or romantic for Blair where Stan was concerned that it barely crossed his mind that it could be problematic to talk about him until he noted the icy expression on Jim's face in the rearview mirror. But then again, his expression hadn't changed a great deal since they left the hospital. 

"Give me a call if you need anything," Simon said as Jim made his way out of the car, with Blair hovering in attendance. 

"Will do. Thanks again, Simon," Blair responded, satisfied now that Jim was not planning to say anything. 

The captain pulled away from the curb, leaving Blair with his zombie-like partner and the duffle bag in front of the building. Unnerved at Jim's silence, Blair didn't try to prod him out of it. Instead, he simply moved toward the door of the building and assumed Jim would follow like a well-trained zombie. He did, and they were soon riding the elevator upstairs. 

"Hungry yet?" Blair asked. After a long pause, Jim shook his head slightly. "Maybe you need sleep more than anything else. You didn't get a lot of undisturbed rest last night. Probably not for a long time, huh?" Blair asked sympathetically. 

"Yeah, I'm tired," Jim replied, staring at the wall of the elevator. 

"The bed's all made up with fresh sheets, so you can just flop there and sleep for a week if you want." Blair led the way down the hall, and was more than displeased to see Stan just coming out of his apartment. //How fucking convenient,// Blair thought, annoyed. 

"Jim! Great to see you again. Hey--what'd the other guy look like?" Stan's attempt at humor was obviously lost on Jim. Blair found it to be in poor taste, but chalked it up to the awkwardness of the moment and didn't take great offense at it. Jim's response was more stony silence. 

"Well, uh, glad to see you back again," Stan added, still hanging around his door. 

"Thanks, Stan," Blair finally jumped in as it was clear Jim was only going to stare menacingly at the other man. He put the key in the lock, and wrinkled his brow when he found it open already. Jim didn't seem to notice, and the last thing Blair needed was a good scolding on his negligence in leaving the door unlocked. So he opened it, and satisfied nothing looked out of place, set the duffle bag inside. "See you later, Stan. Come on, partner, you need some rest." Blair got a hold of Jim's arm and was relieved when the other man followed the slight pull into the apartment. Blair locked the door behind them this time. 

"Does he always hang around like that?" Jim asked as he made his way toward the bathroom. 

"No. But being a sculptor, you know, he doesn't have regular hours." Blair stuck his head in the other areas of the loft to be sure nothing had been disturbed and that the unlocked door was just the result of his own forgetfulness while being tracked by Stan. 

"Maybe he should get a job," Jim shot back from the bathroom before closing the door. 

Blair completed his scan of the loft, and went upstairs to turn back the bed. Jim had started the shower shortly after his parting comment about Stan. //Oh, yeah, this is going to be a _lot_ of fun,// Blair mused, shaking his head as he opened the bed and drew the blinds to keep out the bright sunshine. He found one of Jim's favorite CDS of relaxation music and popped it in the small portable player on the night stand, turning it on so the volume was almost too low for his ears, but should be just right for background music for Jim's sensitive hearing. 

* * *

Jim stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower. Feeling some relief at the flow of hot water over his battered body, he leaned his forehead against the damp tiles and let it run down his back. The doctor's words kept replaying in his mind: 

//The damage is minimal. You'll be fine in a few weeks. There is no trace of seminal fluid, and the bruising and tearing were caused by a cylindrical object, somewhat larger than a human penis. Your risk of disease is slim to none. If there is a way to be lucky in a situation like this, you are.// 

//You survived, Ellison. That's the bottom line. You're alive, you're going to be fine. You don't even have to worry about infecting Blair with anything because you don't get AIDS or STDs from an object. You're going to be fine. Get over yourself. It was a bad experience but it's _over_. Life goes on. Get a hold of yourself.// 

Jim couldn't hold back the choking sobs that seemed to bubble up inside him, and he let them go, grateful that he was the sentinel in the household, and the shower running would be sufficient to protect his privacy. The pain and humiliation of his experience seemed to overwhelm him then, and all the tough, self-motivating pep talks he was trying to give his beleaguered psyche weren't taking. 

They had taken something that was special--hell, sacred--between Blair and him and associated with it something so hideous that he couldn't picture ever letting Blair near him that way again. Nor could he envision ramming himself into Blair with wild abandon, stretching and straining those delicate tissues, topping him and dominating him. 

"You okay in there, lover?" Blair was calling from a crack in between the door and the door frame. Jim had no idea how long he'd been immobile under the spray of water, but it was turning cold quickly. 

"Almost done," he managed. 

"Okay. I put clean boxers on the hamper for you. Want me to dry your hair when you come out?" 

"No thanks. I can get it." 

"All right. Yell if you need me." Blair closed the door again, and Jim heard his steps retreat to the kitchen. 

Jim dried off somewhat awkwardly, trying not to notice the pain that seemed to assail him from all sides. The worst pain was in his memory, the sensation of being split open, brutalized... 

He swiped off the mirror with his arm and looked at the colorful assortment of bruises and scrapes on his face. A particularly large scrape on his left cheek was a vivid reminder of the rough texture of the old cement floor under his face...the taunting...and oh, God, the pain... 

* * *

Blair stopped his stirring of the tea and listened a moment. The muffled, choking sounds were what he thought they were--Jim was crying. Not sniffling, not shedding a few tears--but sobbing. He stood frozen at the counter a moment, not sure if he'd be welcome if he went to Jim. Another one of the painful sounds decided him. Welcome or not, he was going to his lover. 

He opened the door, loudly enough so that even in his distracted state, Jim would know he was coming in. The larger man was standing in front of the mirror, leaning heavily on the sink, a towel wrapped around his waist, one arm clutched over ribs that had to be pure agony with all this uneven breathing. The whole system of considerable muscles tensed at Blair's arrival. 

"It's okay, lover. Let me help, huh?" Blair said gently, resting his hand on a large shoulder, pressing his cheek against Jim's biceps. "You don't have to explain anything. Just let me hold you." Jim turned shakily and pulled Blair into as firm an embrace as he could endure against his injuries. "It's going to be okay, babe. Whatever's wrong, we'll face it together. Don't be afraid." Blair fought his own tears, gently stroking Jim's back. "I love you so much, mine. I'm here. We'll get through this." He felt Jim's hand tangle in his hair and take an almost painfully tight hold of it, as if he thought Blair would get away from him. "That's it, just let out. There's nothing wrong with letting it go, love. You'll feel so much better." Blair kept up a litany of soft-voiced assurances and light strokes of his lover's bruised back. 

"I'm sorry," Jim managed, finally pulling back and stroking Blair's hair a bit, seeming distressed at having grabbed a fistful of it as forcefully as he had. 

"No. Don't be sorry. We're life partners, mine. That means we share the shit as well as the good stuff. Just share it with me. I won't make you say or do anything that you don't want to. Just don't shut me out, please." 

"I...I can't," Jim responded, still breathless and trying to get his full composure back. "God, I'm so tired, Chief." 

"I know, love. I know." Blair reached up to brush away a few tears. "I made you some tea. I know you don't love it, but it'll relax you, and this one's supposed to help aches and pains." 

"Sounds good," Jim managed, smiling a little. 

"Let's get you into bed, and I'll bring it up." 

"You're the doctor," Jim replied, grinning again, a bit more steadily this time. 

With Jim finally tucked in, sipping the herbal tea, propped on a mountain of pillows, Blair collapsed onto the other side of the bed. 

"Want company?" he asked belatedly. Jim just smiled and reached over to toy with a stray curl. 

"You look so worn out, baby." 

"I think it all just caught up with me," Blair said honestly, yawning until his jaws stretched. 

"Need another pillow?" Jim asked, starting to lean forward. 

"Stay put. One's plenty. The floor would work right about now." Blair curled onto his side facing Jim, letting his eyes drift shut. 

"Why don't you get undressed first, Chief? You're not going to be very com--" Jim cut himself off short when he realized that Blair was already dozing off to sleep. He took another sip of tea and took in every minute characteristic of Blair's face. It was the face that had saved his sanity, made him want to live, even through the worst torment he could imagine. The picture of Blair crying over his grave was enough to make him hang in there, and even enough to make him glad he had lived. He wasn't glad for himself. Living with the memories of what they had done...not to mention with the disgrace at the PD for the blown operation...none of that shit was worth coming back to. 

Blair moaned a little and stirred, then started to look a bit perplexed. Jim was about to reach out and caress the tumble of curls on the pillow when a single word stopped him. 

"Stan," Blair muttered in his sleep, grumbling and turning over on his other side, facing the wall. 

//Stan... No, he wouldn't do that. Not while I was undercover... But when else would he cheat on you, genius? You'd smell another man on him a mile away. And what about the sexy outfit Simon claimed Blair had been wearing the night you ended up at the hospital? But Blair wouldn't cheat.// Jim almost smiled as he shook his head and finished the tea. //Why not? Have you looked at Stan the man lately? All that sandy hair, nice build, Mr. Creative-Cerebral-Artsy Fartsy. Probably can actually talk about some of the things Blair's interested in, and he's a good five years younger than you are, you old fart.// Jim looked back at the peaceful form on the other side of the bed. //The son of a bitch probably makes little naked Blair statues in his spare time. Obsessed bastard.// 

Jim stared at the ceiling, listening to Blair sleeping soundly next to him, oblivious to the riot going on in his partner's mind. //All he said was "Stan". He didn't scream the guy's name and come all over himself. He said a name. Get a grip, Ellison. Probably was just one of those stupid stray thoughts going on in that poor overworked brain of his.// Jim reached over and touched a couple of soft curls on the pillow. //Poor guy's so exhausted he can't stand up and he's lost plenty of weight he really couldn't afford to while you've been gone. That's not the result of a steamy, satisfying affair. That's the result of a long, stressful, painful time.// 

Satisfied that he'd gotten over his little flare of irrational jealousy, Jim set the empty cup aside and carefully maneuvered himself into position to sleep. 

* * *

''You like to hang around leather bars. You oughtto enjoy this, cop. Most guys like you who hang around places like that have one thing on their minds. They wanna get fucked. Is that what you want, pig? You wanna get fucked?" The breath was nearly as foul as the words. The ropes were impossibly taut, keeping his arms and legs in exactly the positions the bastards wanted. The beating had left his body screaming out in pain, and the strain of the position was as uncomfortable as it was humiliating. 

"Take a look at this!" A voice from behind called out cheerfully. It was another one of the goons, and whatever he had with him, he was very proud of it. 

"Whoa-ho. You think his boyfriend's dick is that big?" 

"Not unless he's been fucking with King Kong," the bearer of the unseen prize retorted, and all four men were laughing again. 

"Not gonna fit, man," another voice opined. "Get real." 

"Oh, it's gonna fit," the other man responded menacingly. "I'm gonna make it fit." 

* * *

Blair stirred and jolted awake to Jim's moans and wild thrashing about next to him in the bed. 

"Jim, it's a nightmare, buddy. You're at home, you're safe," Blair soothed, trying to calm the worst of the violence of the flailing arms to save himself an unwanted slug in the face. "Jim, lover, it's me, it's Blair. Come on, I know you're scared but what you're seeing isn't real, babe. It's safe to open your eyes. If you open your eyes, it'll go away and you'll be safe. Come on, lover, come back to me, huh?" Blair eased himself over closer as a little of the restlessness settled slightly. He ventured to touch Jim's hair gingerly, and found the other man leaning into the contact, as if in the throes of his nightmare, he knew with every fiber of his being that it was Blair touching him. Fueled by that realization, Blair grasped one of Jim's hands and laced their fingers. "Jim, wake up, right now." His voice was firm and commanding, but not loud, and certainly not hostile. 

"Blair," Jim muttered, opening his eyes and finally looking over at his lover. 

"Right here, mine. Right here." Blair raised the hand he held up to his mouth and kissed it, then held it against his face. "You want to talk about the dream?" Blair wasn't surprised by the shake of the head he got for a response. "It's okay, you don't have to, love." 

"It was so damned real," Jim murmured, wiping at his eyes. 

"Some of them are. Like reliving whatever it was over and over again. Jim, I'm not going to pressure you to talk to me, but you know I want to help. If you feel like you don't want to talk to me, I'll be behind you 100% if you want to see somebody else to deal with--" 

"I have to see the police shrink anyway before I go back on the job." 

"I wasn't talking about a few mandatory sessions where you close off and don't tell him anything and he initials a form and then you go back to work. I was talking about seeing someone who could really help you." 

"I've had a couple bad dreams, Sandburg. I don't think I need to be committed just yet." 

"No one's suggesting that, man. I didn't say you were crazy. I don't think that at all. But I know you'd eat ground glass before you'd volunteer to see a counselor or therapist, even if you needed help." 

"I don't need anything but a couple days' rest." 

"Okay." Blair was quiet a moment, then rested his head on Jim's shoulder. "I love you, you know." 

"I know. I love you too." 

"What time is it, lover?" 

"Four," Jim reported, glancing at the digital readout on the CD player. 

"How about I cook us some dinner? Nothing heavy. Soup and sandwiches, or we could order pizza if you want." 

"I don't care about dinner right now." 

"Jim, you've got to eat, man. I know it's not high on your priority list right now, but I don't want you passing out on me." 

"All right. Whatever you want is okay with me." 

"Jim?" Blair looked up to have eye contact with the man he loved. "I just want you to know, whatever it is about this case that's upset you so much--or whatever's giving you nightmares--there's nothing you can tell me, or that can happen that'll make me not love you. You're my whole life. You know that." 

"I know." Jim gathered the smaller body into his arms and held Blair close. "I lived for this." 

"If you hadn't come back to me...Jim...I couldn't have dealt with it. I know you're gonna tell me now all about how I'd move on and how I'd get on with my life...but it wouldn't happen. I love you so much it scares the hell out of me sometimes. I used to lie here at night and hold your robe or one of your favorite sweaters--anything that still smelled like you. And I still couldn't sleep. I haven't slept four hours straight like this since before you left." Blair shuddered a little, and Jim's arms tightened around him. "I swore I'd never do anything like this, but please, Jim, keep the promise to me you made in your letter-- don't leave me and go on a case like this again. I can't handle it. I thought I could, and I know I sound worse than a whining cop's wife, but I can't help it. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, and I didn't want to get up in the morning. I was so scared all through this case that something was gonna go wrong, and when Simon showed up at the door, I just about died right there. I thought he was coming over in person to...to give me the news. Jim, I know now that I couldn't have survived hearing that." 

"You could--" 

"Dammit, no, don't tell me I could. I know I couldn't. I wanted to die when I saw Simon out there in the hall. I wanted to die before I had to hear those words come out of his mouth," Blair concluded, his voice breaking pitifully on the last words. "I know I should be able to handle this, and I shouldn't lay this on you, but I can't go through this again, Jim. You're so much a part of me now that I can't make it without you." 

"I promise," Jim said softly, kissing Blair's hair. "I promise, angel. Never again." 

"I'm sorry." 

"No, don't be. My undercover days died with J.J. Rush." Jim found a measure of relief in putting the rape on J.J. and taking it away from himself. It had happened to J.J., not to him. J.J. had been tied spread-eagled and raped with something that felt like a tree trunk. J.J. had been beaten and ridiculed and taunted and humiliated. He was Jim Ellison now. J.J. was dead. He had died after the rape. He had taken his last breath the moment the warm bundle of love in Jim's arms had burst through the door of his hospital room. 

"I know how much you love that kind of work--" 

"It's over, baby. And I don't even care. As a matter of fact, I've been thinking hard about resigning altogether." 

"Why?" Blair moved away from Jim, sitting up on the bed so they were facing each other. 

"Because...I came so damned close to dying...horribly...and I wondered what the hell it would solve. Bernardi isn't going to be brought down by this, the goons that roughed me up are in lock-up, but they're paid fall guys. They'll take this rap and then get monster pay offs when they get out--hell, they'll get more than my goddamned pension for what they did to me." 

"Jim, I know something awful happened on this case. I don't know what, but I know it's something that was terrible for you. I just want you to know that I understand that, and I want to be there for you however you want me to be." 

"You're doing just fine, baby." Jim reached over and patted a denim-clad leg. "You look better since you got a little sleep." 

"I feel better," Blair replied, smiling and gracefully accepting Jim's change of subjects. "Man, I just passed out as soon as I hit the bed. I was kinda worried I was going to do that." 

"I'm glad you 'passed out', Chief. You needed the rest. You still do. Shit, you're so damned skinny." Jim measured a thin wrist, unhappy to be able to get his fingers so far around it. 

"Yeah, well, after we have something to eat, we can read or watch TV up here if you want." 

"The TV's downstairs." 

"The _big_ TV's downstairs." Blair scrambled out of the bed and heaved a carton onto a small wood stand Jim hadn't really noticed before, located at an angle from the foot of the bed. "I got us a present while you were gone." Blair stepped away from the box so Jim could see that it was a 19" TV/VCR combo. "I figured we could either catch the news or watch movies or whatever. Instead of falling asleep on the couch and staggering up here at two in the morning." 

"Good idea, sweetheart," Jim responded, trying to get his mind off his own misery for a moment and concentrating on Blair's surprise. When Blair planned a surprise, it always meant everything to him that Jim liked it. "Nothing better I can think of than lying around in bed with you and channel surfing at the same time." Jim smiled as Blair laughed a little. 

"I'll fix dinner. You don't have to come down--" 

"I do unless you brought the plastic urinal from the hospital." 

"Well, actually--" 

"No way, man," Jim replied, holding up a hand and laughing a little. "My days of bottling it are over." 

"Take the steps slowly." Blair was at his side in a moment, pacing their descent to the first floor with great care. Once Jim headed into the bathroom, Blair went about fixing their meal. 

Blair found he was ravenous now. Jim was home and safe, even if there was something seriously wrong. But they could handle anything together, Blair reasoned, and sated his emptiness on a helpless cold chicken leg before he started a pan of chicken noodle soup on the stove. 

As Blair was stirring the soup, there was a knock at the door. Bracing himself for another encounter with Stan, he swung the door open and was surprised to see Tina Merriweather standing there with a potted plant in hand. 

"Smells like I caught you right at dinner time," she said, grimacing slightly. 

"I'm just fixing some soup. Come on in." Blair stepped back and she entered. Dressed in a navy blue tailored business suit, with her blonde hair swirled up on her head, she looked more like an executive than a Vice cop. 

"I was summoned to the holy temple today, so I thought I better dress the part," she said, as if noticing Blair's appraisal of her appearance. 

"You look nice." 

"Thanks. I had to meet with Cameron, Banks and the Commissioner this afternoon." 

"Yikes. Want me to take that for you?" Blair indicated the plant. 

"Oh, yeah. I suppose Jim really doesn't need a plant, but I wasn't sure what else to bring him. I heard he was allergic to flowers." 

"The plant's great. I'm sure he'll like it." Blair set the robust-looking philodendron on the kitchen table. "Have a seat. Jim's in the other room--he'll probably be joining us pretty soon. You want something to drink?" 

"No, thanks, I'm fine. I don't want to keep you two from eating dinner. I just wanted to see how Jim was doing." 

"You know you're always welcome to stop in. If it weren't for you..." Blair shuddered. "I don't want to go there." 

"I don't think the others would have let Jim down either." 

"But no one did anything--you took the initiative. And that's what saved Jim's life." 

"Amen to that, Chief," Jim spoke up as he exited the bathroom, wearing his gray robe and looking a little more refreshed. "Good to see you, Tina." 

"You look like you're feeling better," she commented, though Jim just snorted a little laugh. 

"I don't know about that, but I'm mobile anyway." Jim eased himself down into the cushions of the couch opposite the one where Tina sat. 

"We're out of fresh bread for the sandwiches," Blair said from the kitchen where he was turning down the soup. "Would you guys excuse me while I run down to the bakery and pick some up?" 

"I'll keep an eye on the patient," Tina quipped. Blair smiled as he headed for the doors, grabbing his keys out of the basket. 

"Thanks. I won't be long." Blair pulled the front door shut behind him. 

"He's a great guy, Jim. You're lucky." 

"I agree with you there." Jim felt the uneasiness growing. Tina knew the score. She had been the first to find him, and it had only been with her help that he'd been able to get himself together before the others arrived. She had released his bonds, found his discarded pants and helped him get back into them before the guys caught up to them. He wanted to hide it, and she helped. But she knew. 

"How are you _really_?" 

"I'm all right," Jim answered, forcing a steadiness and conviction into his voice that he didn't really feel. 

"Are you? Jim, I still wish you weren't insisting on keeping this a secret. I think it's a potentially destructive decision." 

"I appreciate your help, Tina--so please don't take this the wrong way, but I think I know what's best for me, and having something like this as the topic of conversation in the PD lunchroom isn't it." 

"A lot of your colleagues would be behind you 100%." 

"Yeah, I'm sure some of them would. But not only am I already bucking the system with a male lover, not only am I the lead cop of a botched undercover operation that just cost the PD thousands of dollars and yielded nothing, but I'm now supposed to describe how...what happened? No. That's a route I won't go. Not an option." 

Blair made his way down the hall with the bag of fresh bread from the bakery in hand. He stopped outside the door to the loft when he heard loud, animated voices. 

"You haven't told him yet?" Tina demanded in disbelief. "When were you planning on getting around to that?" 

"When I'm ready," Jim snapped back. "You said you'd keep this under your hat." 

"Well, yes, I will. I told you I wouldn't say anything at the PD. But, Jim, you're living with him--sleeping with him. He has a right to know." 

"I have every intention of telling him. This just isn't the right time! Look, we agreed to keep this between us and all of a sudden, you're pushing me to take out an ad in the paper and announce it to the world." 

Blair leaned against the wall near the door. This conversation couldn't be what it sounded like. He closed his eyes and prayed. //God, please, don't let it be what I think it is.// 

"Jim, you can't keep him in the dark forever. He's just going to be more hurt when he finds out how long you've been deceiving him. It's going to be hard whenever you tell him." 

"He's had a rough six weeks too. I can't drop this on him right now." 

"Blair seems pretty resilient. I think you're selling him short." 

"I'm not questioning Blair's strength or his coping mechanisms. I just don't feel the need to test all of them right now. I'll tell him when the time is right." 

"It isn't going to get easier, Jim. Believe me. The longer you wait--" 

"Tina, I owe you my life, and for that, I'm grateful. But--" 

"I know. I'm pushing. I'm sorry. I just feel so strongly that you should be at least talking this over with Blair." 

"I'm back," Blair announced, walking in the door and closing it behind him, trying to act nonchalant, as if he hadn't heard what they'd been saying. His hands shook as he pulled the loaf of bread out of the white bakery bag. "Would you like to stay for dinner, Tina? It's not much, but we've got enough." 

"No, thanks anyway, Blair. I really should get going. Jim--take care of yourself, and remember what I said." She rose and headed for the door, motioning Jim to stay put when he leaned forward to start the task of standing to walk her out. "You can save the chivalry routine this time. Just get some rest." She smiled back at Jim before heading for the door, which Blair opened for her. "Take good care of him," she instructed Blair, then smiled. "I guess you're doing that anyway." 

"I usually do," he replied, a little less jovially than before. If it sounded a bit possessive, that was fine by him. If she thought some undercover tryst with Jim was going to be enough to push him out of the way, she was sadly mistaken. He would deal with the fact his heart was split in half later. For now, he had to protect his turf. 

"I'm sure you do," she responded, smiling a little uneasily, and then after an awkward little pause, she left. 

"Something wrong, Chief?" Jim asked, obviously having picked up on Blair's rapid heartbeat and the almost physically tangible tension that had crackled between Blair and Tina. 

"Nothing," Blair lied blatantly, washing his hands and then pulling out bread to start the sandwiches. 

"Blair." 

"Look, I'm tired, I'm stressed, I haven't eaten more than a handful of food for over to a month--I've just had it, okay?" 

"Okay. Sorry, sweetheart," Jim responded, turning on the television. 

//Sweetheart my ass,// Blair thought angrily, savagely smearing mayonnaise on a piece of bread. //What do you call Tina when you're in the sack with her?// 

"Tina said the arraignment was pretty uneventful this morning. All but one of the bastards all pleaded guilty to kidnapping and aggravated assault. One of them's not talking at all, but he probably will if he gets some pressure from Bernardi to take the fall like a good little stooge. No big surprise there. Paid fall guys, like I said before." 

"I hope they rot in hell," Blair shot back, fervently wishing they'd take the curvy Tina with them. Jim obviously still accepted Blair's explanation of his emotional state, since he made no comment at the hostile response. 

Blair served dinner in the living room, and the two men ate in virtual silence, watching a tabloid TV program neither one really cared about. 

//How can he be so sincere with me and be in love with her at the same time? How can he want her and seem so happy to be with me?// Blair sighed audibly, but Jim ignored it, staring blankly at the TV. //What did I really hear? There's something they both know that I don't that she thinks I should. Does that mean they're sleeping together? But if it was something else innocent, why would Jim be so damned secretive about it?// 

"I'd offer you a penny, but those have to be worth a buck, minimum," Jim said, startling Blair out of his thoughts. Looking over at his lover, Blair's heart softened immeasurably. Jim still looked miserable and tired, and older than Blair had ever recalled him looking before. Setting his empty plate aside, he moved over to sit close to Jim. 

"I'm sorry. I'm just grouchy tonight, I guess." He rested his head on Jim's shoulder and linked arms with him, lacing their fingers together. 

//He might screw her, but he _loves_ me,// Blair thought smugly, then dismissed the thought again. He had no proof Jim had been unfaithful to him, and the smartest way to handle that was to fight fire with fire--be competitive for Jim's affections. //He turned his whole life on its ear to love you. Tina may have been a one-time shot, but this is what forever feels like. Now if he'd just be honest, so we could talk the thing out and find out how he really feels...if she was a one-time slip up for a guy who had been hetero all his life, or if she was serious competition for Jim's love...// 

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, with Blair's head on Jim's shoulder while they stared fixedly at the screen, each man absorbed in his own thoughts. 

* * *

Jim resisted the pull at his consciousness. He had fallen asleep the minute they'd moved up to the bedroom, and for the first time, he'd slept through the night with Blair firmly tucked against his side. No nightmares. //Of course, you had a winner in the afternoon,// he reminded himself. //But in the afternoon, Blair was in the bed, but not in your arms. Guess he's your sleeping pill.// 

Voices irritated his hearing again, and he finally woke up all the way, discovering that his lover was already up, the loft bathed in morning sunlight. Blair was talking to someone, and within moments, Jim identified the voice as Stan the pigeon man. He didn't bother looking downstairs, since seeing Stan there in one of his jogging outfits putting the moves on Blair was the last thing he wanted to watch. If he was needed, he'd intervene. 

//Probably wearing those fucking cycling shorts and a tank shirt. Mr. Health-and-Fitness-Cerebral-Cultural-Artsy-Fartsy-Doesn't-Know-When-ToMind -His-Own-Fucking-Business. God, but that guy was an annoying slut.// Jim let out a long sigh, audible only to himself and the empty bedroom. //A slut, huh? Geez, Ellison, you're starting to sound like a catty old woman.// He smiled a little at that, and closed his eyes again, but indulged in something he normally would never do: he tuned into Blair's conversation with their unwanted houseguest and settled in to eavesdrop. 

"Look, Stan, you really helped me over a couple of rough times while Jim was gone, but he's home now--" 

"So you're just going to dump me, is that it?" 

"Dump you? Oh, man." Jim could almost picture Blair rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "Look, we got together a couple times while Jim was gone--and it really helped me get through that time. I appreciate that. But Jim and I are together, permanently. This isn't something personal where you're concerned. I'm not available." 

"Not personal, huh?" Stan was pacing now. Jim could hear it. //That's what he said, Pigeon-Boy. He's not available. Need me to draw a picture for you?// 

"I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea while Jim was gone. I was lonely, and stressed out--" 

"And I was just conveniently here. That's great, Blair. You're a real class act. Use people and then toss them out when you're done." 

"I didn't use you, Stan." 

"What would you call it?" Stan stormed toward the door, and Jim could hear Blair's heartbeat thundering. 

"I'd call it a mistake, obviously," Blair shot back angrily. The other man slammed the door behind him. "Shit," Blair muttered. As Jim heard the footsteps turn and approach the foot of the stairs, he closed his eyes again and pretended to be just waking up. There were a few things in the conversation that were troubling him, and he wanted some time to think before he let on that he knew the score--whatever the score _was_. 

"Morning, sweetheart," he said sleepily, noting the relief in every part of Blair's system as he assumed Jim hadn't heard any part of the conversation. 

"How're you feeling?" Blair crawled up on his side of the bed and snuggled into Jim's arms. He was still dressed in his robe. 

"A little better, I think. But then I haven't tried moving yet." 

"You want to do anything today? We could go for a drive--it looks like a beautiful day out there." 

"Maybe tomorrow, huh?" 

"Sure." Blair was quiet a few moments. "Do you think Bernardi's people are going to come after you--you know, after you were undercover on the case?" 

"I doubt it. Quite frankly, we can't tie any of this back in to them as long as their goons play their parts, and nobody comes looking for me or anyone else who was on the team. Of course, if they talk, that's different." Jim shook his head. "They're smart. That's how they've got it figured. They either kill you and hide the body, or if something goes wrong with that plan A, the henchmen are well-paid enough to take the fall, and there are no ties back to the organization that hold up in court." 

"Did Tina get in much trouble for helping you? She mentioned that she'd met with Simon, Cameron and the Commissioner yesterday." 

"Oh. She's in some trouble, but fortunately, not in as much as we thought. She went against orders, which is one of those objective things that you can't get around. But ultimately, she made the right choice in terms of the results, which also carries some weight. The long and short of it is that she's on a disciplinary suspension for two weeks, but her rank and her job are intact. Although she's going to ask Simon if there's any hope she could transfer to Major Crime instead of staying with Vice, since Cameron was trying to get her fired over the whole incident, and working under him won't be much of a joy." 

"She probably would like to work more closely with you now." Blair let the comment dangle, and Jim finally responded. 

"I think she wants to get away from Cameron." 

"Was she pretty easy to work with? She seems like she would be," Blair probed. 

"She's a good cop. That part of the operation went well. She'd be a good addition to the unit." 

"Wonder if Simon would have you working together a lot if she transferred." 

"I don't know. Possibly." 

"Would you like that?" 

"What is this, Chief? Twenty questions?" Jim's voice wasn't quite as angry as his words, but close. 

"Just curious," Blair replied. //Touchy subject, huh?// Blair sighed. 

"Okay, Chief. Out with it. What's eating you?" 

"Nothing. I was just making conversation." 

"You're lying. Don't try that crap with me, Blair. I know better so let's just save the double talk." 

"I guess I was kind of jealous of you working with another partner." //Wasn't thrilled at the thought of you sleeping with her either.// 

"I know you wanted to go under with me, but not only would I have refused to put you in that kind of danger, but your commitments at the U wouldn't have allowed it. You were just getting through finals week and grading and all that when this started." 

"I know. I just didn't like that it wasn't me watching your back." Blair relaxed since Jim seemed to be buying what he was saying. It was true enough, just not the reason that Blair was upset. It was because Jim had a secret with a tall, curvaceous blonde who happened to be a great cop and who just saved his life. 

"I'm glad you weren't there, Chief. It was enough of a disaster as it was without you getting hurt too." 

"I'll go fix us some breakfast." Blair got out of bed and headed downstairs. 

Finally coming to grips with the thought of putting his miserable body in motion again, Jim pulled himself out of bed. He groaned when the movement of the covers sent his robe to the floor in a heap. Groaning a bit, he lowered himself to his knees to pick it up. He wasn't about to call Blair to get it, and the mental image of stooping all the way from the waist made his ribs throb. As he was about to get up again, something under the bed caught his eye. He made the uncomfortable stretch to reach the small, bunched up object and pulled it out to inspect it. 

The pair of black briefs definitely weren't his. Repelled and yet compelled at the same time, he opened up his sense of smell. They weren't Blair's either. But they were familiar... As realization dawned, Jim rose to a standing position, his anger obliterating the pain. He knew who they belonged to, and his time of waiting for an answer was over. 

Blair was cracking eggs on the side of a bowl when Jim came stealthily down the stairs. He jumped a little when he noticed the other man standing behind him. 

"Hey, lover. Eggs okay?" he asked, turning away from the counter, smiling. 

"What do you have to say about these?" Jim hurled the underwear at Blair, who barely caught it before it hit him in the face. 

"I didn't know you had any like these," Blair responded, frowning. 

"I don't. And they're not your size. Don't try bullshitting me, Sandburg. When was Stan in our bed, huh? Is that why you had to run home and change the sheets before I came home?!" Jim demanded angrily, advancing toward Blair. 

"Oh, come on, man. Me and Stan? Give me a break! I mean, we talked a few times while you were gone, and he's a good listener, but that's it. I can't believe you'd even think--" 

"A good listener? Goddammit, Blair, it's bad enough you've been screwing around on me. Don't make it worse by lying about it!" Jim shouted. 

"I can't believe you think I was sleeping with Stan! Where were these anyway?" He tossed the balled up underwear down on the floor as if it were a live snake. 

"Under the fucking bed upstairs! So if Stan hasn't been up there lately, what the hell is his underwear doing under our bed?!" Jim demanded, advancing toward his partner. Blair retreated a few steps, backing toward his old room. 

"I _don't know_. But he's never been in that bed, Jim. And he sure as hell hasn't been in any bed with me!" Blair shouted back. 

"So what was it you couldn't resist, huh?" Jim continued his rant, as if Blair hadn't spoken, still advancing toward the other man. "Was it the whole Bohemian artist thing?" Jim asked angrily. "Am I too fucking old? What is it??!?!?" Jim snarled the question loudly and violently enough to make Blair jump. 

"I didn't do anything! God, Jim, how could you--" Blair was stunned to be shoved back on his old bed. "What're you--" 

"Shut up. Just shut the hell up right now." Jim lowered his full weight on the other man, ignoring the screams of pain from his own abused body. He grabbed a handful of hair on either side of Blair's head and held him motionless against the bed. "No more lies, dammit. Every time you open your fucking mouth more lies come out! Shit, Sandburg, if you're fuck buddies with the guy next door, the least you could do is be honest about it! But you didn't count on Simon seeing you in one of your slutty get-ups. Is that his kink? He likes you to dress like a goddamned whore?" 

"I told you I--" Blair was cut off with a hand clamping over his mouth. 

"If I want to hear from you, I'll ask. Now shut up!" Jim finally moved his hand from Blair's mouth and moved up slightly. "Turn over." 

"What?!" Blair stared at Jim, disbelieving. "Don't even think about it. Now get the hell off me!" Blair shouted back, no longer playing a passive role in the whole confrontation. "You don't want to do this, man--" His protest was cut off with a sharp backhand blow across his mouth. 

"When I'm finished with you, you're not going to forget who you belong to for a good long time," Jim hissed into the startled face of his lover. 

"Jim, don't do this. Please don't do this," Blair pleaded, giving up on the assertive approach. All it had earned him so far was a split lip. The only response was Jim making the necessary moves to efficiently flip Blair on his stomach and pin his arms at the small of his back. //He's going to rape me. My God...he's going to force me...// Blair's mind raced, and tears filled his eyes, spilling onto the spread. "Jim, please don't hurt me," he begged, starting to cry in earnest. 

"You should've thought about that before you started fucking around behind my back and dressing up like a cheap whore for that asshole next door!" 

"I never slept with him! Oh, God, Jim, how can you think I'd do that?!" As Blair made that demand, he thought about his own suspicions about Tina. Neither man, apparently, was above doubting the other. Rational thought left Blair as he felt his robe being pulled ruthlessly out of the way, a strong, angry, efficient hand grasping his boxers and pulling them off with a startling efficiency. 

"Spread your legs," Jim ordered, poking at Blair's thighs with his knee. 

"No!!" Blair let out an agonized wail. "Don't do this to me, Jim. Oh, God, please don't hurt me! I didn't do anything wrong! Please stop!" Blair sobbed every plea, hysterical not only at the thought of what someone the size of Jim, angry, would do to him without benefit of any lubrication, but at the irreparable damage that would be done to their relationship if he had to survive being raped by the man he loved. "Jim, please, NO!!" He made one last attempt as he felt his legs being forced apart by the large knee insistent on insinuating itself between his thighs. 

"Oh shit," came a strained voice behind him as the pressure was suddenly gone from his pinned arms and Jim's weight completely removed from his body. As soon as he was free, Blair scooted up the bed and curled into a ball, pulling his robe around himself, crying hard into the bedspread. 

Long minutes passed, and finally Blair realized he was hearing more than his own sobs echoing. He was hearing Jim's. Rolling over to face his lover, he found the larger man kneeling on the floor next to the bed, sobbing as convulsively as Blair had been himself. 

"Jim?" Blair slid to the edge of the bed, sitting next to where Jim had pillowed his head on his folded arms. He reached hesitantly toward his lover and stroked his hair. "It's okay, lover. I'm okay." 

"What have I done?" Jim asked miserably, not moving his head. 

"You stopped before--" 

"I hit you," Jim interrupted. 

"I know." Blair took a deep breath. That was a hard thing to reconcile in his own mind, but one thing was certain--Jim was not himself. "No serious damage done, love. I'm not made out of glass." 

"Oh, God, Blair, please don't leave me. If Stan...if there's something you need from him...just don't tell me about it. But don't leave." Jim's words shattered Blair's heart into a million pieces. That this proud, close-mouthed man would make such a statement--such a pathetic plea--stirred Blair to the depths of his soul. 

"Jim, look at me." 

"I can't." 

"Please, babe. Look at me. It's important." Blair slid his hand carefully beneath Jim's face to where he could encourage his chin upward. When both damp-faced, red-eyed men were looking at each other, Blair smiled. "You're everything I need, everything I want, everything I ever dreamed of. I haven't even _looked_ at another man, or seriously given a woman more than a passing glance, since we got together. I don't know how Stan's underwear ended up under our bed, but he sure as hell didn't lose them up there during some passionate sex fling with me. Nobody's ever going to touch me the way you do. That's just for us. Forever." 

"Not anymore," Jim said softly, looking away from Blair. 

"Please, lover, believe me that I didn't sleep with Stan. I don't have any interest in the guy. The only reason I talked to him a little more while you were gone is because I was desperate. I was lonely and miserable and he can be a good listener when he shuts up for a few minutes. He seems to think I meant it as something more--that just because I talked to him a few times or ate a bagel with him that I wanted to have a relationship. I think Stan needs to get out more," Blair concluded smiling. 

"It's not you, sweetheart," Jim told the bedspread. "It's me." The words hit Blair light a ton of bricks. He should have expected it after what he'd overheard between Jim and Tina. 

"Tina's a beautiful woman, Jim. And you were always with women before me. I think we can get past this." 

"What are you talking about?" Jim looked up, startled. He finally hauled himself up to sit on the edge of the bed with Blair. His confusion seemed to outweigh his anguish for just a moment or two. 

"You said it wasn't me, that it was you--about the sex being just between us. I overheard you talking to Tina yesterday. I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I was coming back home with the bread and I heard you guys talking about something that you didn't want me to know, but that she thought I had a right to know. I just put two and two together." 

"And came up with five, Darwin," Jim responded, smiling ironically and shaking his head. 

"I'm lost, man." 

"Oh, geez." Jim took a hold of Blair's chin and examined the swollen split lip. "I'm so sorry, Chief." 

"Jim, please talk to me. Tell me what's wrong." 

"I can't excuse myself, Blair. Not for hitting you. And certainly not for...for trying to...to force you." 

"You stopped. When I really pleaded with you, you stopped. If you wanted to hurt me, Jim, it would have been easy for you. You had me pinned down, and I can't overpower you. But you didn't." 

"I should have never started." Jim got up and started pacing. "I just...I look at Stan and I see all the things I can't give you. He's interested in the same stuff you are, he's artistic, he's...he's younger, and he's going to have all his hair a hell of a lot longer. And...he can give you a few other things I...I don't think I can...ever give you again." 

"Okay, let's take this one step at a time, man. I don't love Stan. Period. I don't even _like_ the guy all that well, and I sure as hell don't want him in my pants. End of story. Second, the only person I ever want to share my life with is standing on the opposite side of the room with his back to me. I love you, Jim. The vows we took...they're forever. And that's no burden or restraint or tie-down. Being married to you is the most wonderful, fulfilling, perfect part of my life. It _is_ my life. The rest of the stuff is just filler. This is the meat--the center of my existence. You and being with you--that's it. Anything you can't give me, I don't need. Yes, I might talk to someone like Stan because I find common ground with him. But that has nothing to do with us. And as far as how his stupid briefs got upstairs, I think I know when that happened." 

"When?" 

"When I was getting ready to go get you at the hospital. Stan had stopped me a couple times to talk, and he was trying to strike things up when I was leaving, and I forgot to lock the door. At least, it was unlocked when we got home." 

"You didn't say anything." 

"I didn't want to upset you, and honestly, I was too tired to get bawled out for leaving it open. I was just wiped out, and cranky and borderline weepy about all this, so I figured if everything looked okay, I would just vow to be more careful in the future and let it go." 

"So you think he planted them?" 

"Yeah. I think he's working real hard to make me look bad even if I'm not doing anything. Just like that fight we had this morning while you were asleep upstairs." 

"I heard it," Jim confessed. 

"You didn't say anything." 

"You didn't say anything about Tina either." 

"Touche," Blair conceded, laughing a little. "As for the outfit, Simon kept telling me you were in trouble but nobody would _do_ anything. So I dressed up like I was looking for action and was going to cruise around the clubs Bernardi runs to see if I could find anything out." 

"We still need to have a little talk about that, Chief," Jim responded sternly. 

"I still don't understand what you meant when you said that it was you." Blair was only allowed a brief look at Jim's profile as he turned his head a bit, but then he turned back to face away from Blair again. 

"On the case...something...it wasn't in the reports. Tina helped me." 

"Jim, it's okay, love. Just tell me what happened." Blair rose and went to stand behind Jim, laying a gentle hand on his back. 

"I can't say it." Jim took a shaky breath. Blair felt a cold fear in the pit of his stomach, and somehow, it all fell into place, and he cursed himself for not knowing right away. Or maybe he had known and didn't want to face it himself. 

"They raped you," he almost-whispered, winding his arms gently around Jim's waist from behind, still mindful of his injuries. 

"Oh, God, how...you knew?" Jim managed, his voice strained and breathless. 

"Not for sure. I should have known right away. Maybe somewhere in my heart I did, but I didn't want to face that those bastards hurt you that way. Did the doctor know?" Blair waited as Jim nodded, his hands coming up to cover Blair's where they crossed at his stomach. "Are you gonna be okay physically?" 

"Yeah. Uh...we don't have to worry...about STDs or HIV or anything. They...didn't use...it was...an object." 

"Oh, God." Blair lost a bit of his control, and tears spilled down his cheeks as he pressed his head gently against Jim's back. "What?" he asked finally. 

"I...I don't know. I...I just know it felt..." Jim worked hard to retain enough voice to speak. "I know it was too fucking big to fit." A few tears escaped then, and Jim's hands tightened over Blair's. "It's not between us anymore, baby." 

"That had nothing to do with sex, lover. That was torture. Sick, perverted, sadistic torture. They hated you because you were a cop so they found the most painful, humiliating thing they could do to you. They didn't even use...themselves." Blair struggled to pull his own emotions back a bit, to be strong for Jim. "Oh, God, Jim, that doesn't take anything away from what you are, or from any vows between us, or the fact you've never made love with anyone but me since we made our commitment to each other." Blair was quiet a moment. "How...how badly are you hurt?" 

"The doctor said it was nothing permanent. He said there was a lot of bruising and swelling and I needed a few stitches for the, uh...one of the tears." Jim took in and released a shaky breath. "Blair...I have no...no right to keep you here," Jim said brokenly. 

"It's just a fat lip, big guy. I'll be fine." 

"I can't...I mean, I can't give you...anything. If somebody like Stan..." 

"Jim, forget Stan. He can go fuck his pigeons for all I care. He's history. And the next time I see him, I'm going to stuff his lousy underwear down his throat so far he'll be wearing them in the right place when I'm done. But this thing about not giving me anything..." 

"I don't know...I can't picture... One of the things that was the most perfect between us... What if I can't...?" 

"Can't have sex for a while? A long time? Years? Never?" Blair rubbed a hand lightly over Jim's midsection and chest. "I loved you for two solid years when the most we ever did was hug each other once in a _very_ great while. I would have lived with you that way forever if you'd let me. I still feel the same way. The love was all there so long before the sex. The sex grew from the love, Jim. And they can do whatever they want, but they can't reach down inside of us and mess with that. Sex is physical. It can be beautiful, but without the love, it's just so much activity. Fun maybe, but nothing important. I could live my whole life without sex if I had to, if it meant we could be together. But if I had to leave you, I wouldn't last a day." 

"That all sounds good, Chief, and it means a lot to me, but think about what you're signing up for." 

"Reverse the situation." 

"What?" 

"If you're having trouble believing that I will feel the way I do right now, forever, and that I don't want to leave you, that I don't feel short-changed or turned off or grossed out or that I could possibly mean what I say--just put yourself in my place. If I had been raped, and you had me back with you now, and I felt the way you feel about things, and I had a lot of stuff to work through--how would you feel?" 

"Like I was so damn lucky you were alive that nothing else mattered." 

"Okay then. Will you put it out of your mind about Stan or anybody else, and please not worry about me getting tired of things and leaving? It's more likely that I'll get tired of my heart and cut it out of my chest than it is I'll get tired of you. You're mine, Jim. Nothing and no one is going to take you away from me." Blair got a hold of Jim's arms and encouraged him to turn around, so they finally faced each other. "There's no way I'm ever going to stop loving you, and no way I'm ever gonna leave you. Even if I die, you're going to be haunted 'til you take your last breath, so quit worrying about how old you are, where your hairline happens to be or how many deformed people the guy next door makes with his clay. I'm not going anywhere, and the only man I ever want to be with--in any sense of the word--is you. Got it?" 

"It's sinking in, I think," Jim responded, smiling weakly, pulling Blair into his arms. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

"Not yet. Not now. Maybe not ever. Can you live with that?" 

"As long as you don't shut me out of what you're feeling, love. I can handle you not telling me the facts or the details until you feel able to, but I want to be there for you." 

"You are. You always are, baby." Jim pulled back. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" 

"No. I'm fine." 

"Except for the fat lip." 

"Yeah, there's that," Blair responded, smiling a little. 

"Do you have to teach today?" 

"I have the rest of the week off--and if we need more time, I'll get more time." 

"You can't just disappear, Chief. You have to--" 

"I have to be with you if you need me. I'm not disappearing, and I'm not quitting Rainier. But you come first." Blair hesitated. 

"There's something you want to say." Jim's statement was matter-of-fact, not accusatory. 

"You're not pressing charges." 

"No, you're right, I'm not. One disgrace per case is plenty." Jim moved away from his partner and walked over to a small mirror that hung on the wall. His own reflection still made him sick--still made the self-loathing and self-chastisement kick into high gear. //I should have stopped them...I should have come up with some kind of plan...I should be man enough now to press charges for what they did...// 

"What disgrace? Jim, it's not your fault someone recognized your picture in the newspaper." 

"The whole operation went down the toilet, Chief. All we've got to show for it are four small-time hoods who won't ever sell out 'the family'." Jim made quote marks in the air with his fingers. 

"You did your best." 

"Maybe that's what's so fucking pathetic," Jim responded, sinking back onto the small bed, then stretching out when he found sitting less than enjoyable. He was glad when Blair came and snuggled up with him, spoon style, so he could wrap himself around the smaller man's warmth. 

"You did your best on this operation--Jim, you are a good cop." 

"You're biased." 

"Just because I love you doesn't mean I can't evaluate your abilities and characteristics accurately. I'm not _that_ biased, man." 

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry for hurting you...pinning you down like that," Jim said, kissing a nearby ear. "The only reason I don't feel worse is that I couldn't have done anything to you if I'd wanted to. I don't know why I even did something like that. I couldn't get it up if my life depended on it." 

"God, Jim...after what you've been through... Don't be so hard on yourself, babe. You didn't mean to hurt me." Blair stroked the large arm that had curled around him, pulling him tightly against Jim's body. "You were afraid of losing me--and it was another major thing you couldn't control, like...like what happened to you. Maybe you just needed to regain some control, to feel like you were in the driver's seat again." 

"That's no excuse to hit you. It sure as hell wouldn't have excused me forcing myself on you." Jim buried his nose in the soft hair, inhaled Blair's scent and let his eyes drift shut. As long as Blair was in his arms, the demons were kept at bay. 

"I would have forgiven you," Blair said quietly. "You know, I'm here for you, whatever you need, love. However I can help make this easier...I guess I'm not saying this too well." 

"You're saying it great, Chief. I love you." 

"I love you too." A long pause followed. "I hate what they did to you. You're mine, Jim. They had no fucking right!" Blair couldn't help crying now, unable to cope with the images playing through his mind of Jim being tormented that way, and their sacred territory being stomped down by brutality and invaded by a bunch of perverts who used Jim in the worst possible manner. 

"It's okay, baby. I'm so sorry." 

"No! You don't be sorry, man! This is _so_ not your fault. I don't want you to apologize to me. You didn't do anything!" Blair shouted through his tears. "It's them. God...I never wanted to kill anyone in my life, but if I had the chance... With my bare hands..." Blair trailed off into tears, and Jim held him close, joining him. The release of the pain felt good, and sharing it with Blair made it less unbearable. They had both been hurt by what happened, and anything Jim could share with his lover, he felt he could face. 

Continued in part three.


	3. Chapter 3

Due to the length of this story, it's been split into nine parts for easier loading.

## The Secret Life of J.J. Rush

by Candy Apple

Continued from part two.

* * *

**THE SECRET LIFE OF J.J. RUSH - part three**

by Candy Apple

Jim stirred and opened his eyes, disoriented for a moment to find himself in Blair's old room. His lover was sleeping soundly, having cried until the point of exhaustion when he once reacted to what Jim had told him. Acknowledging the ever-present discomfort in his side and from the rape itself, Jim shifted and sat up, trying to figure a way to get out of the bed without waking Blair. He slid down to the foot of the bed and got up, stifling a groan as he left Blair to his rest and pulled the French doors shut.

Taking some comfort in puttering around the kitchen quietly, he cleaned up the remains of the breakfast Blair had started preparing before he had been so violently interrupted. As he dried off the few dishes he'd washed, his sense of smell picked up on something, and he glanced at a corner where two baseboards met under the cupboards. The infamous black briefs were still there where Blair had thrown them. Drying his hands, Jim snatched them up off the floor and strode angrily to the door and out into the hall. Taking a deep breath, he headed for Stan's door. After banging on it loudly, he heard movement inside.

"Who is it?"

"Jim Ellison," he responded curtly. //It's the underwear fairy returning your dirty drawers.// Jim rolled his eyes as he waited for the other man to answer the door. When it opened, he tossed the black briefs at the startled man.

"I should run you in for breaking and entering, ace."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Look, I know you're lying, so let's just cut through the shit here and get something straight right now. If you ever pull a stunt like this again, they're gonna have to surgically remove those when I'm done with you. Furthermore, stay the hell away from Sandburg. He's told you to get lost, but he's a hell of a lot more polite than I am. I'm not going to tell you again. Stay out of his face, and stay the hell out of mine," Jim concluded in a controlled but distinctly hostile tone.

"Don't you think you're taking this whole jealousy thing a little far? Last time I looked, Blair could speak for himself."

"You're right. He can. And he has. But occasionally, he encounters a thick-skulled asshole who isn't capable of listening. So that's where I come in, because I'm a hell of a lot less diplomatic. You come near Blair again, and you're gonna be singing soprano, if you don't already. Is that clear enough?"

"It's a crystal clear case of harassment and assault."

"Call a cop," Jim shot back, walking back toward his own front door.

"You know, Ellison, your Neanderthal tactics might be exciting for a while, but when Blair grows up a little bit, he's going to be looking for someone who can challenge his mind, share his love of learning and culture and--"

"Look," Jim spun around and faced the other man, jabbing an angry finger at him as he spoke, "you don't know what you're talking about, so now would be a damn good time for you to shut the fuck up before I do it for you."

"Can you solve anything without threats and violence and throwing your weight around, I wonder? Is that how you keep Blair in line? Smack him around when he misbehaves?"

"No," Jim laughed and shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're not getting your way this time, pal. All you need is to get me to take a swing at you, and you can cry assault. If you're lucky, I might do a little time and then you could sniff around Sandburg while I was gone. Not gonna happen." Jim moved into the other man's personal space, his breath actually moving a few stray hairs on Stan's head. "But mark my words: don't make the mistake of trying to get between Blair and me. I'm done issuing warnings. The next time, I'll take care of the problem once and for all." Jim backed off and headed for the apartment.

"Meaning what?"

"You're so fucking smart. Figure it out, Einstein." Jim slammed his own door shut behind him, and was surprised to see Blair up and around, making coffee. It was then that he belatedly realized he'd gone out to intimidate the neighbor wearing his bathrobe at noon.

"Everything okay?" Blair asked, looking concerned. Jim took in the pale, drawn appearance of his face, the dark circles under his eyes and, of course, like a beacon shining in the darkness, the swollen lip.

"I just had a little heart to heart with Stanley."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. I gave him his gamey briefs back and told him to stay the hell away from you and not to try another stunt like that again."

"What did he say?"

"The usual crap--how when you grow up you're going to get tired of living with a neanderthal." Jim moved across the kitchen to accept the cup of coffee Blair poured for him.

"If you haven't gotten tired of a bookworm who never shuts up, I imagine I can handle a neanderthal." Blair smiled slightly before sipping his own hot coffee. "And what exactly is that remark about 'when I grow up' supposed to mean? God, I hate being demeaned because of my age. That is _so_ ridiculous."

"No argument there, Chief."

"So that was the end of it?" Blair followed Jim and joined him in sitting on the couch.

"Well, basically. We exchanged some strong words, but he knows where I stand now, so if he gets in our faces, he only has himself to blame for the consequences."

"Jim--you can't do anything to him. You know that."

"If he minds his own fucking business, he has nothing to worry about. But you're off limits. I'm done being broad-minded about that. I guess I have to stake a claim here the old-fashioned way. So be it. If he bothers you again, I'll pinch his head off. End of story." Jim took a drink of coffee. "He's an arrogant little prick that probably needs to get his ass kicked good once before he gets the message." Jim smiled a bit evilly. "I happen to have excellent communication skills in delivering those messages."

"You can't take out your aggression on other people, Jim. I know this is a hard--"

"Hold it right there." Jim set down his coffee cup and pinned Blair with an intense gaze. "You know I love you, Blair. So when I say this, I don't want to hurt you. But leave this thing alone. You had a right to know, and it's a hell of a lot easier on me now that telling you is over with and you _do_ know. Keeping this to myself was probably the hardest thing I ever had to do. However, I don't have any intention of having every one of my actions interpreted through the Sandburg post-rape filter. What's going on with that pushy son of a bitch next door has nothing to do with what happened to me. Yeah, it interacted with it pretty badly this morning, and I'm probably more upset about swatting you than I am about anything else right now. But don't start with me every time I do something assertive, telling me it's misdirected aggression. It isn't, I'm not crazy, and I don't want to hear it."

"I'm just worried that you're going to keep all this hostility bottled up inside and it's going to explode at the wrong time on the wrong person and somebody's going to get hurt and you're going to be in major trouble. I didn't want to lose you to death on this assignment, and I sure as hell don't want to lose you to jail after you beat Stan's brains in for ogling my ass at the wrong time."

"I'm not going to jail. Give me a little more credit than that."

"Credit for what? Not committing the act or not getting caught?"

"You're the doctoral candidate here. Figure it out." Jim pushed away from the counter where he had been leaning and headed for the stairs.

"I just can't believe that we can overcome something as horrible as what you've been through but something like Stan is just going to keep making us fight," Blair added, following Jim.

"We haven't overcome anything, Chief. Ever since I told you, I could almost feel your wheels turning. And the minute I do something you don't approve of, it's because I'm somehow warped by what happened. This is exactly why I didn't report it, and exactly why I didn't want to tell you at all. I only did because I know how much I'd resent you keeping a secret like this from me. I figured I'd get psychoanalyzed every time I passed gas once you knew. That's the truth. You never let me off the hook for anything. It's poke, poke, poke until you get what you want to know out of me. Well you've got it now. Just let it drop." Jim turned and continued his trek upstairs, leaving a stunned, deeply hurt Blair to watch him go.

Jim got dressed, still miserable but deciding he needed a break from the inside of the house, and Blair, and talking about THE RAPE. //Why in hell couldn't Sandburg ever not analyze something to death?//Jim shook his head, looking in the mirror over the dresser to evaluate just how bad his face looked from the beating. The swelling was mostly gone, and with a pair of sunglasses, only the scrape on his cheek and a little bruising around his mouth--and of course, the bruise/cut combo healing on his forehead--were visible.

//You look like someone used your head for a football, but other than that, you look fine.// Jim snorted a little laugh. //Do you give a rat's ass what you look like?// Realizing the answer was a resounding NO, he stuck a Jags cap on with his t-shirt and jeans and made the supreme effort of jamming his feet into tied sneakers, not planning to bend and twist his body to tie them again.

When he made his way downstairs, he saw Blair sitting at the table with both hands around his cup of coffee, staring into space. A little twinge of guilt ran through him as he saw the desolation in that face, but he still wasn't up to hashing everything over with Blair. He needed space, time alone, time to think.

"I'm going out for a while, Chief. I'll be back later."

"Feel okay to drive?" Blair asked quietly, his eyes not leaving whatever spot on the table had their attention.

"I'll be fine." He paused to look at Blair again. He didn't recall ever seeing him look quite so miserable before. "I didn't mean to chew you out before, sweetheart. I just need a little space." //That's much kinder, Ellison. Maybe you could pour a little salt in the wound _after_ you twist the knife one more time.// "I mean I--"

"It's okay, Jim. Just don't overdo it. I'll be around when you get back if you want to talk. If not, I promise I won't push." Blair finally looked up. "I don't mean to bug you so much. I love you, that's all. And I'm worried."

"I know. I'll be back in awhile." And with that, Jim left, pulling the door shut behind him. //I suppose an "I love you too" would have been too hard to say?// the voice inside him scolded. He almost turned and went back inside, gathered the miserable man at the table in his arms and kissed him until he understood just how much he was loved.

But kissing him would only stir a deeper need in Blair that Jim couldn't answer. They hadn't made love in over a month now. In the days before the rape, Jim had found himself almost going mad with the desire to feel that warm, fragrant body against his, enthusiastic and responsive and tender and attentive. He had lived on the memory of Blair's scent, the feeling of Blair's hair skimming his skin while they made love, the endearments and words of love they always mumbled to each other in the afterglow. His one goal had been to get home and take two days off and never leave the loft until he'd had his fill.

Jim got in the truck and started the engine. It took a couple of tries, since it had been dormant almost a week now. He had asked Blair to drive it once in a while, and he had, but the old engine could still get balky when it wasn't being driven every day.

The sunshine was bright and warm, and the breeze that came through the open windows of the truck was mild and refreshing. A perfect day. //Nice day to take Blair out of that gloomy damned apartment and have picnic. Today you go for a ride and leave him home after he tried to get you to do this yesterday. Why are you trying your hardest to hurt him?// Jim tried to ignore the nagging voice inside him. It was more persistent than Blair on his worst day. //You damn near raped him, hit him, then cried on his shoulder and in the next breath pushed him away.//

Jim felt fatigued from just the short distance he'd driven. He didn't know if it was physical or emotional, but he was worn out. Blair was probably right to question if he should be out driving around, but then, Blair was often right even when Jim was loathe to admit it.

Somehow all this time alone to think wasn't as fulfilling as he'd hoped. Still, he had to have a time where he revisited the whole case in his mind, faced the demons that lurked there, and came to some kind of terms with his failure to make the operation a success, as well as the assault he kept pushing aside.

Glad the normally busy pier was sparsely traveled on a weekday, Jim parked the truck and started out for a brief walk. The fresh air and sunshine would do him good, and maybe he could just find a quiet bench and stare out at the water for a while. After a short foot journey, he did just that, finally braving the frightening territory of his memories, reassured by the sunlight and the occasional passer-by.

* * *

Blair went upstairs and made the bed, then dressed in a t-shirt, cut offs and an old pair of athletic shoes. He pulled his hair back and put on his glasses, heading back downstairs to work on his laptop. Having the inspiration to set up on the balcony so he could bask in the fresh air, he finally situated himself in a lounger with the computer on his lap, tolerating the awkwardness of it in favor of the surroundings.

After about an hour of re-writing the same paragraph at least ten times, he shut off the machine and set it aside, closing his eyes and letting the breeze dance lightly over him as he rested. //Jim's alive. He's been badly hurt, but he'll get better.// Blair shifted and found a more comfortable position. Sleep wasn't far away now, and it felt so good out there in the fresh air and warm sunshine. //His physical wounds will heal, but how about the emotional wounds? What if he never wants to make love with you again? Can you really deal with that?//Blair sighed. //Of course I can deal with that,// he replied to himself. //I dealt with it for a long time. I love Jim. That's independent of the sex. I'll never stop loving him.//

//What if he doesn't want you? What if having another man as a lover makes him too sick after what's happened? What if he wants to just be friends again, and finds a woman more appealing as a bed partner? Can you be magnanimous then?//

"Dammit, Jim," Blair said out loud, opening his eyes. "Why did this have to happen to us?"

Movement inside the loft caught his attention, and he got up, heading inside, expecting to see Jim arriving home. Instead, he saw no one.

"Jim? Is that you?" //Please be you. I know someone's here.//"Jim?" He took a few more tentative steps across the living room.

"Hold it right there." A voice made him freeze in his tracks. He turned to see a tall man with greasy brown hair and a mustache, dressed in jeans and a blue denim shirt standing in the doorway of his old bedroom, holding a gun on him.

"Who are you?"

"You're going to help me out of a bind. Now, we're going to walk nice and calmly downstairs and get in my car. Understood?"

"Why?"

"You ask too damn many questions." The man moved across the room, his aim at Blair never wavering. "I'm going to be walking behind you. There's a silencer on this gun, and I assure you, I won't hesitate to use it."

"What do you want?"

"I just told you. Now move."

Blair followed the directions, opening the front door and walking into the hall, followed by his captor.

"Hey, Blair, what's--" Stan stopped short when he noticed the tip of the silencer poking Blair in the back. Before either man knew what was happening, the gunman fired twice quickly, and Stan lay in a heap in the hallway.

"Move it or lose it," he growled at Blair, who tore his horrified gaze away from Stan's crumpled form and moved quickly to obey orders. "It's the blue Chevy--right over there," the man indicated to his frightened hostage, who moved toward it obediently. "Get in." He opened the driver's door, and Blair got in the car. "Now you stay put. I'm a hell of a good shot, and you won't get ten feet from the car before I drop you, understood?"

"Understood," Blair answered softly, still shaking a bit at having witnessed Stan's shooting moments earlier. The car door closed and the gunman moved swiftly around to the passenger side. After sliding into the seat, he closed the door and handed Blair the car keys.

"Now, you do exactly what I tell you to do, and I won't kill you. That's the deal. Start up the car and drive straight down Prospect until I tell you otherwise. Got it?"

"Yeah. Got it." Blair started the car and drove as instructed, his heart hammering up in his ears. "Why are you doing this, man?"

"Just mind your business and drive."

* * *

Jim felt marginally more relaxed as he drove toward home. He'd spent a long time on the pier, and he imagined, with a smile, that it wasn't unlike the time Blair spent in the lotus position in the middle of the floor with candles burning. For his lover, it was meditation. For Jim, solitude, a little quiet time, and the soothing sounds of the ocean were very restorative.

Nothing was really solved. He couldn't change what happened, and he still couldn't face the concept of sexual intercourse. He could face the thought of making love to Blair--kissing him, holding him, tasting him...but he knew he couldn't reach deep enough into himself to find the ability to be aroused, to find the physical desire that would manifest itself as a healthy erection. No, he wanted to express love to Blair, but he couldn't follow through. Maybe it would happen in time, but not now. And Blair probably wouldn't accept one-sided lovemaking if Jim couldn't get as good as he gave.

As for the case, the whole operation had been too pushy and brash to be successful. Infiltrating the organization with multiple operatives, with Tina and himself being quite flamboyant in their roles, moving up in Bernardi's operation--it was too arrogant to work. One of them was bound to be made, simply because they were gaining notoriety among Bernardi's dirtbags. If Jim had been just another errand boy or bouncer in one of the leather clubs, Bernardi's other personnel wouldn't have paid him much attention, and he might never have been ID'd. Same could be said of Tina. If she'd been a simple street whore and nothing more, she wouldn't have attracted any special attention. So he didn't exactly blame himself for the failure of the Bernardi sting. But he shared the blame with Simon, Cameron, Tina herself and a number of other cops who all thought it was a hell of an idea at the time.

He pulled off the road to let a speeding ambulance pass, and then resumed the drive home. He floored it when his enhanced vision picked up the crowd of police vehicles the ambulance was joining--all parked haphazardly around the entrance to the loft.

Jim pulled out his ID and wove through the vehicles until he spotted Simon coming out the front door.

"It's not Blair," he said immediately, watching the tension melt away from Jim's features almost immediately. "He's not in the apartment, Jim. I don't know as that means anything."

"What's happening?"

"Stan Kendall, your next door neighbor, was found in the hall. He's been shot twice. I don't know as he'll make it, but he's still hanging on."

"Oh, man." Jim shook his head, wondering if there was any hope that Blair might be just running errands. "Son of a bitch."

"What?"

"Sandburg's car is right over there, sir. If he's not in the bakery or the restaurant across the street, he would have used his car to go most anywhere else. And if he were in either of those places, he'd have come out to see what the commotion was along with everybody else."

"Jim, there's something I need to talk to you about as soon as we get cleared away here--"

"Stan, can you hear me?" Jim started running alongside the gurney that carried their wounded neighbor to the ambulance.

"Blair," he mumbled.

"What about him?" Jim persisted, refusing to be pushed aside by the ambulance personnel.

"Took...Blair...gun..." His eyes rolled back in his head and he lost consciousness again as Jim was moved out of the way so the injured man could be loaded in the ambulance.

Simon hadn't waited for Jim. As soon as the garbled words were out of Stan's mouth, he was on the radio ordering an APB on Blair with a full description, adding that he was a potential kidnap victim.

"Jim, Garber cracked. Sang like a canary late last night," Simon explained, referring to one of the men who had been present during Jim's assault.

"Wh...What did he say?" Jim swallowed, finding his throat suddenly dry, on the verge of closing completely.

"He said they were acting on the orders of Mick Bernardi to 'deal with' the undercover cop Tony ID'd." Simon's mention of the man who served as Mick Bernardi's second in command chilled Jim. He had distinctly heard Tony add to Mick's orders to 'deal with the cop' to 'take your time and have a little fun with this one'. Jim struggled against the urge to ask if Garber had mentioned the rape.

"You think they came after Blair as retaliation?"

"Retaliation or leverage. He may be hoping to use Sandburg to shut you up. See, just Garber hanging this on the family isn't enough, without your ID of Garber and his cohorts, your account of what happened, and your testimony about the whole Bernardi operation."

"Why not just come after me?"

"What would hurt you more--losing Blair or being killed yourself?"

"You know the answer to that, Simon," Jim responded quietly, staring at the speeding ambulance as it disappeared on the horizon.

"So do they, apparently. This is punishment for betrayal as much as it is leverage. You got to be friends with Mick Bernardi--or should I say, J.J. did."

"Yeah, J.J. and Mick were getting pretty tight. I think I spent the greatest part of my undercover time riding Harleys with Mick and getting him to tell me his secrets." Jim let out a long sigh. "He was angry--maybe even felt personally betrayed. It was like he stepped back and let Tony give the orders on what to do with me."

"Jim, is there something you aren't telling me?"

"I just want to find Blair, sir. That's my only concern right now."

* * *

Blair tested the ropes holding his wrists behind his back as he lay on the cot in the corner of the basement. His ankles were also effectively bound together with about three rounds of rope. He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing as he watched another large spider march across the dirty pillow where his head rested. Blessedly, it continued its journey without showing much interest in him.

The basement of this dilapidated house smelled musty, and obviously wasn't used for much of anything anymore. Thick webs hung in all the corners, and the cot where he had been ordered to lie was dirty and shoved against a wall under a network of webs.

"Comfy?" His captor was back, seating himself on a lone straight back chair a few feet from the cot. "You can scream if you want. You saw the area. Mostly vacant farmhouses. Nobody's going to hear you, and if they do, they aren't going to care."

"Why are you doing this to me?" Blair asked.

"I have some unfinished business with J.J."

"J.J.?" Blair had almost forgotten Jim's undercover name.

"Jim to you. J.J. to me." The other man rose from his chair and paced back and forth near the cot. "You know, I haven't had a best friend since I was about six years old. But J.J.--man, we clicked. Even went out riding together. He really knows how to handle a Harley--and we took 'em up to some pretty impressive speeds."

"You're Mick."

"I'm flattered. He talked about me?"

"I just kind of put two and two together."

"My older brother was murdered when I was in high school. I think it was a mob hit. Retaliation for a business deal of my father's that went bad."

"I'm sorry," Blair said honestly, sorry to hear that an innocent life was taken as a casualty in a mob war.

"I'm sure," Mick shot back. "J.J., he was a lot like Andy."

"So you're angry with Jim because you liked J.J.?"

"All's fair in love and war, man. And it's fair to go undercover and bust a man's operation if you can pull it off."

"But?"

"It's a goddamned low trick to betray a friend's trust." Mick shook his head. "I trusted him. He was getting close with me so he could bust me, and I trusted him. I gave him Andy's bike."

"His bike? You mean his motorcycle?"

"No, I gave J.J. his Big Wheel," Mick shot back sarcastically. "Yeah. A vintage Harley Davidson. Worth plenty of money. But you know, it wasn't the money. It never was. My brother loved that bike, kept it in top condition--not a scratch on it."

"You must have really cared about J.J., huh?"

"He rode that bike several times, acted like it meant something. Like we were friends. Oh, man, this sounds like a bad romance novel, doesn't it?" Mick laughed ironically. "I wasn't this pissed when my girlfriend screwed my gardener. I just threw her out and broke his legs."

"Betrayal sucks, man, and it hurts. But Jim didn't do any of this to hurt you personally. He was playing a role--doing his job. Just like you did your job by...by turning him over to your muscle."

"It was a flashlight."

"What?" Blair frowned, confused, still trying to follow the pacing man with his eyes.

"They fucked him with a flashlight. You were probably wondering."

"You were there?" Blair tried to keep his emotions in check, but it was an uphill battle. The imagery that Mick's words were conjuring was enough to push him over the edge.

"It was my flashlight," he responded, snorting a little laugh. "I sure as hell enjoyed listening to him scream. Motherfucker deserved every poke for trying to take my brother's place." Mick ignored Blair's tears and sharp intakes of breath as he tried to hold them back. "Using me I could forgive. He used Andy's memory. That I couldn't let pass." Mick moved away from Blair into the shadows of the basement, paused near what looked like a workbench, and then returned. A heavy object landed next to Blair's chest as he lay on his side on the cot. He noted with horror that it was a flashlight. Mick laughed.

"Souvenir--don't worry, it's been wiped off since it was used last."

"How could you watch that? How in the hell could you enjoy it? What kind of animal are you?" Blair demanded, trying to edge back from the object that had been used to torture Jim as if it were radioactive.

"He used my dead brother to betray me."

"He never betrayed you, Mick," Blair said, hoping to keep the man talking, maybe buy himself some extra time.

"What are you talking about? What do you call what he did?"

"You never gave him the chance to see how things would end. You had him...brutalized and planned on killing him before he could react. Did you give him a chance to explain anything, to speak to you before you had him hauled off?"

"What was there to say? His whole identity was a lie."

"Sometimes when you go undercover, things don't always go as planned." Blair took a deep breath. He seemed to have Mick's attention for the moment. "When I first started working with Jim, I went undercover for him to get close to a gun-runner's daughter. The idea was for me to get the goods on her father--or at least keep my ears open. I managed to fall in love with her."

"You're bi, then, huh?" Mick asked, sounding interested in the story.

"Not really. Well, I guess I am by definition now, but I never saw myself that way. But anyway, the point is, if I had found out she was involved in her dad's operation, I don't know if I could have turned her in. As it turns out, she was innocent, so she didn't end up at risk for prosecution for anything. Jim was already in the middle of this operation, with various other cops relying on him, not to mention the PD. While it isn't exactly the same situation, obviously, the thing is that sometimes when you're undercover, you end up making connections with people in ways that you didn't want to. And when it comes to selling them out, the feelings are more important than the case. But you never gave Jim that out--that chance to be your friend over being a cop. You had him...you stood there and _watched_ for God's sake..."

"This is a nice fairy tale--no pun intended," Mick added, chortling. "But you seriously want me to believe that Jim Ellison the cop would have honored J.J.'s friendships? I don't buy that."

"But you'll never know."

"I have a pretty damn good idea."

"But you don't _know_ how he really felt--if anything he said was genuine. Jim is a pretty genuine person. I don't think he could have a friendship with someone just for a case. Not one that had meaning."

"What's the point of arguing this now?" Mick seemed a little unnerved by their conversation.

"You're planning something else. Shit, man, wasn't raping and torturing him enough to make you happy? You know you're not going to get away with whatever it is you're trying to accomplish by grabbing me. If there was any hope your ass wasn't in a sling before, it will be once you tie yourself into the whole situation with abducting me."

"I'll give you a hint, man. My ass is already in the sling thanks to Garber. He squealed that I gave the order. I don't plan on hanging around to take the heat. I'm just waiting for one of my people to get me the ID's I need, and I'm outta here--out of the country."

"You're planning to kill me, aren't you?"

"You're a perceptive little bastard, I'll give you that." Mick returned to the chair, straddling it and resting his folded arms on the back of it. "I'll make contact with Ellison, outline the terms of the deal to him--trading you for his silence. Then after he has his chance to hear your voice one more time and believe we've really got you, I'll get my shit together to get out of here, and put a bullet in your head. It'll be a while before anyone looks out here."

"Another murder? How many lives are on your conscience now, man?"

"None. If I order a hit, it's a business deal. You're a means to an end. I want Ellison to feel that loss--that mind-numbing pain--so he can understand that a man's grief isn't something you use to make a case." The other man frowned a bit. "So where'd you get the fat lip? Ellison swat you for getting fresh with him?"

"None of your goddamned business. Leave me alone."

"Oh, I plan to, as soon as I'm ready to go. You'll be alone here a nice long time. Probably long enough for the rats to nibble off your extremities before the cops find the corpse." Mick stood up and headed for the stairs. He stopped when his cell phone rang.

"Yeah." He waited. "Great. I'm at the farm. Yeah, later." He closed the phone and grinned back and Blair. "Sooner than I thought. It's _showtime_." He swaggered back to stand by Blair's cot and dialed a number.

* * *

Jim was watching through the window into the interrogation room while Simon and Joel verbally pummeled Garber for more information as to where Blair was likely to be taken. So far, they were running into a brick wall. No one could be sure if Garber just wasn't high-ranking enough to know all the inside information, or if he was getting cold feet about sharing it. The cell phone rang.

"Ellison," he spoke into it.

"J.J., my man!" Mick's voice sailed over the line in the same manner it had before Jim's cover had been blown. In the middle of all his worry for Blair and horror at the atrocities he'd been through, there was a twinge of loss for the odd friendship he'd managed to forge with Mick under the most bizarre circumstances.

"Where is he?" Jim demanded, cutting through the amenities as he waved at the cop in the observation area with him to get a trace on the call.

"Patience, patience. You can talk to him." There were a few sounds of movement.

"Jim?"

"Blair, are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm sorry about this."

"I love you, Blair. You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart," Jim said into the phone, not caring who heard it. If Blair died still feeling shut out and hurt by their argument that morning, he'd never forgive himself.

"I lo--"

"I think I'm gonna throw up," Mick said after moving the phone away from Blair. But there was another sound Jim was focusing on. It was faint, even to his hearing, but audible. Blair was giving him directions. It would be impossible for Mick to hear the inaudible whispers, but Jim was picking up enough fragments as he cradled the phone between his head and shoulder and scribbled hasty notes of street names and distances.

"...Andy. You'll get to find out just how it feels to find someone you love with their brains splattered on the wall," Mick concluded angrily. "So, if you want him back alive, just keep your trap shut after I'm arrested. Without your testimony, the charges won't stick. They never do. Once I'm released, he will be too."

"You haven't even been arrested yet."

"It's only a matter of time. But as soon as the charges are dropped, you get your boyfriend back. If not, well..." The line went dead.

Jim burst into the interrogation room.

"Simon, we got it." Simon look confused and left the room to join Jim on the other side of a closed door. "Mick just called, and I could hear Blair giving directions in the background--I know where he is. I just need back up."

"Take Rafe with you. I'll get you back-up."

"Thank you, sir." Jim was already halfway into the hall when Simon gave the directions.

* * *

"Well, sweetheart," Mick said scathingly, I've got a few things to do." He cocked his gun and ran the barrel of it along Blair's cheek. "I'll be back to give you the, uh, parting shot in a few." Chortling at his own attempts at humor, Mick hurried up the stairs.

Blair tried to calm himself, to control his breathing, but it was all over the map. He had no way of knowing if Jim had heard the impossibly quiet words he had muttered as Mick talked. The chances of it were minimal. He pondered why Mick wasn't killing him right then, and then concluded that his captor would actually be better off _not_ killing Blair until the last minute. In the event he was discovered, at least now he had only kidnapped his victim, not murdered him. Furthermore, there was always the chance he might decide to use Blair as a hostage to get to the airport, and he probably liked to keep his options open. There was also the very real possibility that Mick had never killed a defenseless person in cold blood. He had shot Stan without hesitation, but then he perceived Stan as a threat. There was also no telling how severely Stan had been wounded. Maybe it was just enough to effectively floor him. //Wishful thinking, Sandburg.//

//I love you, sweetheart.// Blair felt a little smile creep over his lips as tears trickled out at the same time. Jim's voice and his profession of love wrapped themselves around Blair like a protective blanket. //I love you too, babe. Don't miss me too much. Get help to work through all of this, and then get on with your life. I'll wait for you on the other side.//

Blair scolded himself for being so pessimistic. Jim had come through impossible odds before to save his life, and this might not be any exception. Jim's hearing was probably his greatest asset--probably the most intense of his heightened senses. There was no telling he didn't hear the inaudible set of directions Blair muttered as Mick spoke. But the chances were slim...to none.

* * *

Jim pulled off the road at a good distance from the dilapidated white frame house. He had followed Blair's spotty directions to the best of his ability, but there was no sign of a vehicle near the house. There were, however, a number of equally run-down barns and outbuildings that could be housing the car.

"How do you want to handle this?" Rafe was checking the ammo in his gun, replacing it in his holster.

"Get everyone in position, but give me a head start to find Blair. I want to be sure we get him out safely before we storm in there."

"I'll come with you. Let's face it man, you're not moving all that fast yet."

"Okay." Jim radioed his plans to the other back up units, and gave them instructions on what positions to take.

"I still can't believe Blair was able to give you enough clues to get us here," Rafe said, following Jim's crouched trot through the underbrush. For a man with cracked ribs and various other injuries, he seemed to move like a cat in the weeds without recalling that he was anything but 100%.

"Cover me. I'm going to make a run for the house." He made a visual scan of the house, and located Mick in an upstairs room, pacing and talking on his cell phone. He didn't find Blair in the rest of the house, so he assumed he must be in the basement or one of the outbuildings. The basement windows were far too dirty to allow Jim to see through them from this distance and many of them were almost completely obscured by weeds.

"Come on, man. You know I can make that run faster than you can right now. Why don't you cover me?"

"That wasn't a question, Rafe," Jim stated, ruthlessly pulling his senior status on the younger detective as he started on a dead run toward the house. To Rafe's surprise, an injured Jim Ellison flew like the wind until he was flattened against the house.

* * *

The sound of something clattering to the floor in a far corner of the basement startled the bound man on the cot. Straining to hear or see something, Blair waited while there were more scuffling sounds and finally, footsteps. A large shadow emerged from among the others, and Blair's heart swelled in his chest at the sight. Jim was moving stealthily across the basement toward him.

"Ji--" Blair stopped when the other man pressed a finger to his own lips, then worked at untying the ropes around Blair's ankles. As soon as his wrists were free, he took enough time to wrap his arms around Jim's neck for a quick hug.

"Be as quiet as you can," Jim whispered, pulling back from Blair and grabbing his hand to lead him through the shadowy basement to the window where he had slipped inside the basement. "Get a hold of the sill. I'll give you a boost." Jim made a step with his laced fingers, but Blair just stared at him.

"I won't leave you in here."

"I've got a little unfinished business with Mick. Don't argue with me, Chief. Once you're out safely, they're sending me back-up. But I want the pleasure of busting that asshole myself. I think you can understand that" Jim's voice left no room for argument. Blair took the boost and wriggled through the small opening into the weeds outside the window.

"Jim, please, come out--"

"Make a run for the trees. Rafe's over there."

"Jim--"

"Go, now."

"Be careful," Blair finally said defeatedly, knowing that a determined Jim Ellison was about as flexible as a steel rod.

"Always," Jim replied, smiling a little. Blair raced in a hunched run for the underbrush and disappeared into it. With his lover safely rescued, Jim turned his attentions to Mick's movements upstairs. He was on the first floor now, but there was no great change in his heartbeat or respiration to indicate that he knew he was moments away from being arrested, or that his hostage was gone.

Jim evaluated the cot where Blair had been tied, and realized that Mick couldn't see anything more than a shadowy form when he came downstairs. Stealthily, Jim moved to take Blair's place on the cot, gun trained on the staircase. He smiled when he found a flashlight nearby. It was the perfect companion piece to the gun. He could flash it in Mick's face, making him even more disoriented in the dark basement. With the gun in one hand and the flashlight in the other, he waited.

* * *

"How long before the back up moves in?" Blair asked Simon once he was back in friendly territory, waiting for some sign of life from the farmhouse. Simon looked over at the site with his binoculars again.

"As soon as Jim gives me a verbal signal. He's wired for sound."

"But he said you were sending in back-up! I thought that meant, like, right away!"

"Jim had some very definite ideas on how he wanted to handle this one." Simon could see Blair was still jittery and unsatisfied with that response. "Look, Sandburg, Jim is a damn fine cop. He knows how to handle something like this. To our knowledge, there's only one perp on the scene."

"Jim's not 100%. You know that, Simon."

"I know he's still a bit sore from that beating, but Jim's been around the dance floor quite a few times with situations like these. I'm sure it's not the first time he's gotten roughed up and gone back into action. Hell, in Peru he managed to bury his entire team when he was recovering from a plane crash. He's strong, Blair. Give him some credit, and for God's sake, don't start mothering him. He can take care of himself."

"This is different."

"I can see that," Simon responded, looking at Blair more thoughtfully than he had before. The younger man had always been on edge if Jim was in danger, but this time, he was truly frightened to the point of shaking where he stood.

* * *

"Surprise," Jim said as he flashed the light in Mick's face and kept the gun steadily on him. "Expecting Sandburg?"

"Son of a--"

"Drop the gun. Now." Jim waited as Mick followed instructions. He sat up straight on the cot.

"This is actually kind of humorous," Mick stated, smiling and squinting at the light. "Guess what that flashlight was used for last."

"Look, I don't know what games you're playing here, but you're going down, Bernardi. Hard."

"Did Garber include the rape in his little collection of stories he told the cops? You know what Garber did? Do you know which one of them pulled your ass cheeks apart? Huh? Remember that part?"

"Shut the fuck up before I blow you away." Jim cocked the gun.

"Remember what the first time felt like, when that flashlight you're holding rammed in to the hilt?" Mick smiled evilly as Jim's grip on the object in question faltered, but seemed unnerved when Jim didn't drop it like a hot potato.

"Move in now," he muttered the order into his wire.

"Brought back up, huh? Good thinking. Bet they'll get a real charge out of the whole story."

"That wouldn't be the smartest thing you could do for yourself, Bernardi."

"So this was all a business deal from the start, huh? Andy's bike...just another element of the fucking sting operation."

"I don't owe you any apologies, Bernardi. Not now. I might have before. But you more than evened the score, you son of a bitch. Consider this payback time," Jim concluded as the back-up poured into the house, with Simon leading the march to the basement. "And think of me when the prison welcoming committee is making you feel at home," he growled, tossing the flashlight aside and holstering his weapon.

Jim barely made it up the stairs before the wave of nausea overwhelmed him, and he emptied his stomach in a few convulsive heaves into the kitchen sink. A combination of the physical pain of over-exerting himself and the sharp flashes of memory spurred by Bernardi's words were too much for him to handle. He finally reached up weakly and turned on the water, flushing the sink and raising a handful to his mouth to rinse it out as well.

"Jim?" Blair's voice startled him from behind, but he lost no time moving toward his lover, leaving the faucet running. Clutching the smaller body tightly against his own, he felt the first slight measure of peace he'd felt since seeing the emergency vehicles around the apartment building.

"Ellison!" Simon's voice startled them both from the basement door as he followed the men escorting Bernardi out to the waiting police car. "We have to talk."

And then it swept over Jim--the realization that he'd been wearing a wire to call for back-up, and that Simon had probably heard every word Bernardi said about the rape. His stomach rolled over as he watched the flashlight being carried out in a plastic bag by one of the uniformed men.

"Not now, Simon," Blair spoke up, surprising them both.

"Don't take this personally, Sandburg, but this is between Jim and me right now."

"You're going to have to get through me first, Simon. And that ain't gonna happen, so just leave him alone."

"Whoa, easy there, Chief. I don't think Simon's planning on forcing the issue," Jim managed, regaining a little of his voice. Simon didn't back off, and Blair literally stepped in front of Jim and crossed his arms over his chest. Jim just rested his hands on Blair's shoulders.

"My office, first thing in the morning, Ellison." Simon strode out past both of them.

"What--?" Blair turned to Jim, confused.

"Bernardi mentioned the rape while I was wearing the wire," Jim murmured as he leaned close to Blair's ear.

"Oh, shit." Blair slid an arm around Jim as one of the larger man's arms came around his shoulders.

"Let's go home, huh?" Jim asked, exhausted and hoping to forget what he'd be facing in the morning, if only for a few hours.

* * *

Once the door of the loft clicked reassuringly behind them, Jim flopped on the couch and threw one arm over his eyes, letting out a long breath.

Noting the stuffiness and humidity that had come from no air conditioning all day and the windows open to the balcony, Blair turned on the air and closed the windows.

"Come here," Jim said quietly. "Please."

Blair kicked off his shoes and crawled up on the couch, fitting himself against Jim's uninjured side.

"I'm not ready for this to go public, Chief," he said in a voice little above a whisper.

"I know, lover. Nobody's going to blame you for any of this--you know that don't you?"

"I know I won't ever walk into headquarters again without...without feeling like there are a million eyes on me. God, Blair, do you know what kind of...how something like this...how it'll make me look?"

"Probably no worse than loving me makes you look to people who are narrow-minded enough to judge someone that way."

"Oh, it's worse all right. It's all about control of the situation, Chief. Our relationship is a choice--maybe not a popular one, but it's not something forced on me. It's something I accept willingly. Besides, given the fact that I'm in a relationship with a man, the first thing they're going to say is that I either asked for it, or wanted it, or encouraged it."

"That's bullshit, man. Pure and simple. If a married woman is raped, does that mean she encouraged it? Just because a woman has a sexual relationship with a man at the time she's raped doesn't mean she wanted to be forced and brutalized. No one should infer that since a man has a sexual relationship with a man that he wants that either."

"But they do. They shouldn't, but they do. I thought maybe Simon would let this pass."

"He probably feels he's doing what's best for you--and he's doing his duty, I guess. Maybe he can separate friendship and duty. Or maybe in this case, he sees the best alternative as being best for both you and the PD."

"Best for me to be humiliated? There's nothing positive about this going public."

"We can make it through this, lover."

"Don't call me that. I might never be able to _be_ that again. Hearing it just reminds me of all the things I can't give you anymore."

"Jim." Blair angled up so he could look his partner in the eyes, with one hand rubbing light circles on the broad chest. "A lover is nothing more than 'one who loves'. That can be sexual or emotional. You do still love me, right?"

"Of course I do," Jim responded, tangling a hand in Blair's hair. He was surprised to see Blair's eyes drift shut and feel him lean into the contact as if Jim were touching a much more erogenous zone than hair. Spurred on by that response, Jim brought his other hand up to the other side of Blair's head and released the pony tail, running all ten fingers into the silky mop of curls he knew and loved so well. A little whimper came from somewhere in the back of Blair's throat.

//I haven't touched him like this for almost two months.// Jim let the impact of that thought hit him, and remembered the hunger and longing he himself had felt in the final days of his undercover assignment. It warred with his dormant sexual drive, and was not sufficient to stir in him any tangible physical desire. But the love that flooded into his heart for the loyal, compassionate lover in his arms overwhelmed him, and all he wanted to do was show that love in whatever way he was able.

"Let me love you," he whispered as he pulled Blair's head closer to his, brushing his lips against the smaller man's ear.

"What about--?"

"Hush. Let me love you." Jim pulled him in for a prolonged, passionate kiss, the first of its kind they'd shared since the night before Jim left almost seven weeks earlier.

He smiled as he felt Blair melt into the kiss, his body slumping against Jim in complete surrender.

"Jim--" he tried weakly when he pulled back, but Jim silenced him again with gentle lips. When they broke for air, Jim caressed the beloved face near his with the backs of his fingers. Blair's arousal was nudging against Jim's thigh, and he smiled tenderly at his excited lover.

"Let me take care of you, baby. I want to show you how much I love you."

"But if you...if you're not ready--"

"I'm ready to be close to you. I want to touch you. Just let me do this, sweetheart." He slid his hands beneath the waistband of Blair's cut-offs, pulling the t-shirt out of them and over the younger man's head in one smooth gesture. Shifting them so they were side by side, he swooped on the juncture of Blair's shoulder and neck, kissing, licking and sucking his way over neck, shoulders and chest, leaving several bright passion marks in his wake.

The scents, tastes and textures of Blair started infiltrating his senses as Blair moved against him, emitting groans that bordered on sobs as his long-deprived body received the loving attention it had desired since Jim's departure. The little sounds Jim had come to identify in his mind as "Blair's love noises" were teasing his ears as much as his half-naked lover was teasing his eyes. He felt a surge of arousal, fierce and unexpected, and lined his groin up to his partner's.

Blair's eyes, which had drifted shut during Jim's oral assault, snapped open. He was met with an intense, passionate expression on Jim's face as nimble fingers worked to unbutton and then unzip Blair's shorts. Not sure if he should follow his instincts or not, Blair hesitantly slid his hand down near Jim's growing bulge, searching the passion-fogged blue eyes for permission.

"It's okay, baby. Touch me," Jim gasped against Blair's mouth before plundering it in a heated duel of tongues. Blair's hand detoured to slide up under Jim's t-shirt, finding and exciting a nipple to hardness. Even in passion Blair was gentle, and the lovemaking they were sharing now was so many worlds away from the pain and brutality Jim had suffered that he arched into Blair's touch, wanting to obliterate the fear, if only for just a few magic moments.

Blair pushed up the fabric of Jim's t-shirt and began kissing a path across the larger man's chest, pausing to lick and suck at the taut nipples. He was thrilled to hear the aroused little groans come from Jim and feel the hardness growing against him. He slid his hand down their heated bodies and released Jim's rigid shaft from its confines, lining up their cocks and pumping them together in his hand.

He hadn't expected to last long, having ached for Jim since the moment he'd left seven weeks earlier. As his completion spattered them both, he tried to keep his mind coherent enough to finish his lover, who stiffened and with a shout of Blair's name, spurted his climax over Blair's hand and stomach.

Jim gathered his spent lover against him, sealing their bodies together in the sweaty aftermath, burying his nose in Blair's hair, inhaling the scents of Blair's sweat and sex. He felt Blair's heart thundering against him, and the soft hair of his chest rubbing against Jim's smoother body.

"Are you okay?" Blair asked softly, wrapping his arms tightly around Jim and taking in the smell and feel of his lover finally in his arms again.

"I will be," Jim responded, stroking Blair's back and nibbling at a nearby ear. "I think I'm gonna make it, Chief."

"I know you will. I never doubted you for a minute."

"I love you, sweetheart. When I got here today, and you were gone--" Jim shuddered, cuddling Blair against him.

"I was scared for a while there, but then I knew you'd come get me."

"I'll always come for you, Blair." Jim kissed him again, then burst out laughing.

"What?" Blair pulled back, smiling, but stunned.

"What a play on words," Jim replied shaking his head. As it dawned on Blair, he joined his lover in laughter, the first they had shared for a very long time.

* * *

"Have a seat, Jim. Blair, would you wait outside, please?" Simon looked up at Blair, who had followed Jim in for his meeting with the captain the morning after Mick Bernardi's arrest.

"I'd like him to stay, sir," Jim spoke up, motioning to Blair to sit in the chair next him, across from Simon's desk.

"There's no point in beating around the bush about this. I heard what Mick Bernardi said to you yesterday, and the forensics tests on the flashlight confirmed it. The traces of blood that survived the cleaning off it got matched yours."

"What do you want me to say, Simon? I can't apologize because I'm not sorry I didn't say something sooner. I wouldn't be saying it now if things hadn't come together this way."

"I don't enjoy putting you on the spot about something like this, Jim. You know that. But I have a job to do here. I'm not planning to take any disciplinary action against you for not reporting this sooner, because quite frankly, I'd have probably done the same thing in your place." Simon leaned back in his chair. "But it doesn't change the fact that it has to be dealt with now. Garber didn't even argue with it. He provided us with all the details, plus the fact that Mick Bernardi ordered them to 'deal with you', and his henchman, Tony, gave the order for them to 'have some fun' with it. But since they're not the most reputable witnesses in the world, your testimony will be key in nailing Bernardi to the wall for this. I want to see that happen."

"I don't see where I'm being offered any choices."

"Look, Jim, I understand that this--"

"You understand? Excuse me, Simon, but I don't think you do," Jim shot back. "Until you've been there, don't hand me that bullshit that you understand anything about this situation."

"Jim--" Blair started to speak, laying a hand on his lover's arm, a bit troubled at how warm it seemed to be in spite of the air conditioning.

"No, let him have his say, Blair." Something in Simon's gentle tone of voice angered Jim more than if he'd been sharply reprimanding.

"Don't patronize me."

"I'm trying very hard to be patient with this situation because I realize it's an unpleasant one to say the least. But the fact remains that-"

"I'm not testifying."

"What?" Simon stared at Jim, visibly stunned.

"You can have my badge and my gun if you want it, Simon, but I'm not testifying."

"Then you're throwing your career away for nothing. Garber sang like a canary, we've got physical evidence--this situation is going to be discussed in court anyway, Jim. You're not saving yourself embarrassment by not testifying. You're only weakening the DA's case against Bernardi."

"Simon might be right about this, man. If they're admitting it, they don't need you in order to talk about it in court--and in the press and anywhere else. You know I'm with you 100% no matter what you want to do. But I think at some point you might feel better about this if you come forward and help nail these bastards to the wall."

"Jim, our whole case against Bernardi is built around the sting operation that you spear-headed. Our arrest of Garber and his cohorts in the first place was the result of what they did to you."

"I can't do this right now," Jim said weakly, running a hand over his forehead and finding it came away damp with sweat.

"You don't look so great, man." Blair checked Jim's forehead himself. "Shit, you're burning up. Come on. We're going to the emergency room."

"Do I get any vote in this?" Jim asked, obviously feeling angered at being ordered around from all sides, but feeling too weak to fight it effectively.

"Not about the emergency room."

Continued in part four.


	4. Chapter 4

Due to the length of this story, it's been split into nine parts for easier loading.

## The Secret Life of J.J. Rush

by Candy Apple

Continued from part three.

* * *

**THE SECRET LIFE OF J.J. RUSH - part four**

by 

Candy Apple 

Blair paced the hallway nervously while Simon thumbed through a magazine in the waiting room. They had tracked down Jim's doctor, who met them there. The tall, distinguished older man with the grey hair and silver-framed glasses approached them now. 

"Mr. Sandburg?" 

"How is he?" Blair froze in his tracks. 

"He'll be fine in a couple of days. I sent some antibiotics home with him, but apparently he hasn't been taking them regularly, and he hasn't been taking in the fluids he was supposed to. Right now he's got a nasty infection, which has driven his temp up to around 103." 

"He seemed okay yesterday--just tired. Even this morning...I just thought he was warm because it was warm in the apartment. Oh, man, I should've known." 

"You were a little distracted in the last 24 hours, Blair," Simon spoke up from behind him. "We both know Jim's been overdoing it since this happened." 

"I want to admit him for a day or two--get the fever down, and to make sure we catch the infection this time. Plus we can enforce rest and plenty of fluids here." 

"Can I see him?" 

"Sure. He's resting in the emergency ward right now, while they get his room ready. I've ordered a private room, because I want him to get plenty of rest. And--" The doctor held up a hand, forestalling a predictable question, "I'm not putting restrictions on your visiting privileges. My big concern is that we floor him for a couple of days, get his temp down and his fluids replenished. I'll be back in to see him tomorrow. If all goes well, I would think he could go home after two days, tops." 

"That's great. Thanks, doctor," Blair said, grinning as he headed for his lover's bedside. 

"I thought Detective Ellison was off active duty," the doctor said to Simon. 

"He is. But Mr. Sandburg was abducted yesterday in relation to the case and Jim saw fit to handle it his own way. I couldn't really do much to keep him out of it, short of locking him up, and I figured that would be worse for him than letting him help." 

"Well, he needs to stay off his feet for a few days and get some rest. I can well imagine that there's a very strong need for him to keep up the appearance that this is nothing major, but he was hurt significantly by the attack, and his infection risk was considerable. I'm just telling you this because I don't want to see him back on duty again without my okay." 

"Understood. I'll be sure we have a signed note from you in our files before he goes back on duty again." 

"Good. Well, I have to be going. Mr. Sandburg has my number in case you need to reach me before tomorrow." 

"Thanks, Doctor. We'll take better care of him this time," Simon assured as the other man smiled and took his leave. 

* * *

Blair spent most of the afternoon in hovering attendance, sponging Jim's overheated body with a cool cloth. He didn't say much to his partner, who seemed content to doze while Blair did his work. He felt enormous guilt at not having watched Jim more carefully, but he honestly hadn't known how far to push the other man with trying to place restrictions on his movements. Jim had almost beheaded the poor nurse's aide who appeared with the wheelchair that first day at the hospital, and when he made up his mind to go out and spend time on his own, there was no stopping him. Blair did console himself with the fact that he couldn't be blamed for being abducted, or for Jim overdoing it in rescuing him. Still, he felt responsible for the fact that Jim was back in the hospital with a high fever. 

"What time is it?" Jim asked in a groggy voice. 

"About five thirty," Blair responded quietly, sponging off one large arm. 

"You should get something to eat pretty soon, sweetheart." 

"I'm okay. I'd rather be here," Blair said honestly, leaning down to kiss Jim's hand. "How do you feel?" 

"Shitty." Jim smiled a little. 

"Your temp was down to 102 last time the nurse checked it." 

"Feels like an inferno," Jim admitted, closing his eyes again. 

"Can you dial it down?" 

"I tried. Doesn't seem to work with the fever." Jim shook his head slightly. "Man, I really fucked myself up good this time." 

"You'll feel better soon, lover." Blair was quiet a minute. "If anyone fucked up, it was me. I should have known you were getting sick. And yesterday--" 

"Yesterday was beautiful," Jim interrupted, reaching up to press his fingers against Blair's lips. "If I get through this with my sanity, what we shared yesterday is going to be the reason. Yesterday and you." Blair moved his lips to kiss the fingers, catching Jim's hand and holding onto it. 

"I love you, mine." 

"Even if I quit the force?" 

"Even if we have to go somewhere new and start over. As long as we're together." 

"What about your fellowship? You're almost done with your dissertation." 

"It can wait. I know of a few job openings in community colleges around the state--you know, jobs that I could get without my Ph.D." 

"Oh, man. That would completely screw up your career." 

"No it wouldn't," Blair responded calmly, moving the cloth along Jim's forehead again. "It would just put the dissertation on hold a while. Wouldn't be the first time that's happened. I can always finish it later." 

"I know I should testify. It's the right thing to do. To nail Bernardi all the way. If I don't, I'm selling everybody out." 

"Everybody wasn't raped. You were, babe. You have to do what's right for you to get through this." 

"But you have an opinion about what I should do." Jim pinned Blair with an intense gaze, and the younger man realized just how much his lover looked to him for emotional and psychological guidance. 

"I think that it's going to bother you someday that you didn't testify. I'm not making a value judgement on it one way or the other. You're the one who suffered the most here, and you deserve to go through the least amount of pain possible. But what worries me is that some morning you're going to wake up and feel intensely angry with yourself for not testifying now. And at that point, you can't go back and change it." Blair soaked the cloth again in the plastic basin of water on the bed table, squeezed out the excess water and began work again on Jim's arm. 

"I know you're right." 

"But it's not the answer you want to hear right now. I hear that." Blair smiled at his mother's phrase coming out of his own mouth. Jim didn't miss the reference and smiled. 

"Just don't start burning sage in here to get my vibes realigned." 

"No way, man. I value my life waaaay too much to burn sage around you." Blair laughed a little, gently absorbing the heat from Jim's face again. "I want you to do what's going to be best for you. You're all I care about, Jim. You know that. Nothing else I have means anything to me without you. So if it's best for you to not testify and resign and go live in a little town somewhere far away from here, you know I'll be right beside you. The vows include that 'for better or for worse' line for a reason. I just worry that someday you're going to be angry and frustrated at how much they took away from you, and by that time, you won't be able to get it back." 

"I'll think about it." 

"Good. Whatever decision you make, love, remember that I'm with you. I'm not judging it or disapproving of it or questioning it. It's your call, and I'm beside you for the duration, whatever it is. Don't worry about me--I'll find a job wherever we end up, and eventually, I'll get the dissertation finished up elsewhere if not at Rainier." 

"Why did you ever pick me out to spend your life with, huh?" Jim asked, smiling. 

"We picked each other out, remember? Besides, most of the girls I dated couldn't carry me to bed." Blair flexed his eyebrows as Jim laughed weakly. "Try to relax, buddy. None of this is going to touch you until you're well. I won't let it." 

"I know," Jim responded sleepily, letting his eyes drift shut again. "Damned antibiotics." 

"Don't fight it, lover. There's a uniformed guard in the hall, and I'm right here. You're safe, and you don't have to talk to anyone about anything until you're back on your feet again." 

"It wasn't as big as it felt." The statement was barely whispered, and Blair didn't have to ask what Jim was referring to. 

"You never saw what it was until yesterday?" Blair watched as Jim shook his head slightly, his eyes still closed. He looked too pale and exhausted and weak...Blair not only felt immensely protective of the man who normally easily assumed the role of protecting Blair, but he felt a sharp stab at the thought of their age difference. Jim was far from old, but he was _older_ than Blair, and he had never looked as tired and drawn as he did at this moment. 

"No. I didn't know what it was." 

"You've been in a lot of pain since it happened, haven't you, love?" Blair asked gently, stopping his ministrations with the cloth to stroke Jim's face gently with his hand instead. Much to Blair's relief, the skin felt cooler than before. Jim didn't answer, but his throat seemed to be working overtime and his jaw twitched as he kept his eyes closed. "I knew it had to hurt, but I didn't know how much. Oh, Jim, I'm so sorry. I should have known." 

"How? I didn't tell you anything," Jim managed. 

"Can you dial it down?" Blair watched as there was a slight shake of the head, and a single tear trickled out the corner of Jim's eye. Blair leaned forward and kissed it away. "Try to take deeper breaths, babe. You have to relax first--" 

"I can't," Jim finally said, looking at Blair with wet, desperate eyes. "If I take a deep breath..." He let the words trail off and looked away. 

"Your ribs." Blair let out a sigh. "Okay. Just do the best you can with your breathing. Listen to my voice, lover. Close your eyes. That's it," Blair said soothingly, taking a hold of Jim's hand and rubbing the strong arm slowly with his free hand. "Picture the dial. I know it hasn't worked so far, but just listen to my voice, and try to relax. It's okay that you're hurting, love. It's okay for you to let go and hurt. Lean on me, Jim. You don't have to be strong. It's okay to let me take care of you, protect _you_ for a change. Just rest." Blair watched the calming effect his words were having, and continued in the same soothing monotone. "Now picture the dial, babe. It's right there. All you have to do is turn it down, nice and slow. It'll be better, I promise, lover." Blair watched as some of the tension left Jim's features. 

"You did it," Jim said quietly, opening his eyes to slits to look at Blair. 

" _We_ did it, love. If you're sleepy, let go and rest. I'm just going to keep working on that fever." 

"Love you," Jim mumbled as he dozed off. 

"I love you too, mine. With all my heart." 

* * *

After twenty four hours of almost constant attention from Blair, antibiotics pumping through IVs and solid bed rest, Jim's fever dipped under 100, and stayed there for a period of hours. Relieved at that turn of events, Blair consented to at least go home and shower and change, though he refused the concept of taking a nap there. He would only sleep in a chair inches from Jim's bed, and nowhere else. 

During Blair's very brief break, Jim spent most of his time napping, feeling immensely better than he had when he was admitted, and renewed by his ability to once again get a handle on the pain that had been driving his heightened sense of touch almost insane since the rape. He wasn't delighted to be disturbed when there was a knock at the door and a man he didn't recognize poked his head inside the room. 

"I think you've got the wrong room," he grumbled, closing his eyes again. 

"I don't think so," the older man replied. He was average in height and build, with medium brown hair and a beard. Jim estimated his age at near 45 years. "Rafe sent me--he's a friend of mine." 

"I don't get it," Jim finally responded, giving in and opening his eyes with a pained expression. "How'd you get past the guard?" 

"Are you always this friendly?" The other man laughed a little. "Rafe called him." 

"Remind me to thank Rafe." Jim turned his head away and closed his eyes again. "What the hell do you want?" 

"I was just out looking for a good time and Rafe told me what a fun person you were." 

"If you're going to be a smart ass, you can hit the road, ace." 

"Okay, you're right." Jim heard the movements of the man pulling a chair into position to face the bed. "I'm Jack O'Brien." There was no reply from Jim, who still kept his eyes closed and his head turned toward the window instead of his visitor. "I'm a psychologist. I specialize in working with male survivors of sexual assault." Foreseeing Jim's resistance to the whole concept of headshrinkers, he forged ahead. "Ten years ago, my car broke down on my way home from an evening seminar. It was late, cell phones weren't the common commodity they are now, as you recall, so I had to walk to a service station. I got jumped by a street gang--" 

"Look, is this going somewhere special? If not, I'd like to get some sleep." 

"I was gang raped in a junkyard. Six guys took their turns, and when they were through, they left me there. The guy that runs the junkyard found me in the morning. I was in the hospital a couple weeks--it did some major internal damage." 

"I'm sorry that happened to you, but--" 

"I didn't want anyone to know what I'd gone through. I shut everybody out. I didn't go for counseling until after I beat up my wife. She made the mistake of sticking her finger in the wrong place while we were making love, and I went nuts. I beat the hell out of her, put her in the hospital." He shook his head. "She said she wouldn't press charges if I got help. So I did." 

"This is supposed to inspire me to sign up for some encounter group?" Jim asked, nagged by the image of losing control and backhanding Blair. If he had already done it once, would he do it again? 

"You don't strike me as the encounter group type." 

"You're right there. I even hated show and tell in kindergarten. And I don't appreciate this ambulance-chasing tactic of drumming up new patients." 

"And I don't appreciate that insult, either, but I understand it. I don't need to drum up business, detective. I have a very successful practice treating a very great number of male assault and abuse survivors. Most were survivors of child sexual abuse, but quite a few are survivors of rape. The only reason I go after patients aggressively this way is because they are extremely unlikely to seek help. There's no victim this society shows less compassion for than men who have survived rape. It might interest you to know that I don't accept payment for my work with rape survivors." 

"Why? Are we part of some study you're doing?" Jim asked, finally turning his attention on the persistent man at his bedside. 

"Been there, done that. About six years ago with a group of men who volunteered for the project." Dr. O'Brien let out a long sigh. "I don't stand to make money off you, nor do I plan on using you as the subject of my next published article. All I know is that I spent almost a year, messed up and mad as hell at the world, thinking that I was somehow relinquishing control of myself if I admitted I needed some help sorting it out. There's something a bit unsettling about being a psychotherapist who needs therapy, believe me." 

"When I'm ready to talk about this, I have someone to confide in. I don't _want_ a therapist." 

"Blair, right? Rafe mentioned him." 

"Rafe's been awfully fucking helpful here. Remind me to send him some flowers." 

"All he said was that you were in a permanent relationship with another man, and he thought that might make things seem more awkward, since you two just went through all the ups and downs of 'coming out' last year." The psychologist smiled. "I think you're very fortunate to have someone you trust enough to confide in and I think you should talk to him to whatever degree you feel comfortable. But there are a couple of realities you may have to face. First of all, chances are very good your department won't let you back on duty without some evidence of counseling in progress, at least. Secondly, as supportive as Blair is, he hasn't been through this himself, and I think I'm safe to assume there are certain things you hold back from discussing because you don't want to upset him. Am I right?" 

"Probably on both counts," Jim conceded. "Blair had a bad feeling about this undercover assignment from the start, and the six weeks I was under took a heavy toll on him. He was pretty torn up emotionally, and even physically--he stopped eating, didn't sleep much. We're very tuned in, doc. It's a psychic connection, I think," Jim evaded mentioning anything mystical or his sentinel abilities. "He knew something was going to happen, and it almost did him in to have to sit back and wait for it." 

"Why don't you come and see me when you get out of the hospital? I'm going to leave my card with you. If he's willing, I'd like to meet with Blair, too. What happened to you deeply affected him, I'm sure, and I think it would be helpful for him to have some counseling and support as well. Remember--while he's supporting you, nobody is supporting him." 

"I'm sure he'd do it. He's not averse to counseling." 

"But you are," the other man replied, smiling knowingly. 

"I can think of things I'd rather do, yes." Jim had to smile slightly in spite of his inclination to remain serious. 

"Can I plan on seeing you at my office soon? I'll leave word with my secretary to work you in for a visit as soon as possible." 

"I'll think about it," Jim answered honestly. 

"Close enough," Jack responded, smiling and heading out the door, passing Blair on his way out. 

"Who's he?" Blair moved to kiss Jim, then sit on the edge of his bed. 

"Rafe found me a psychiatrist--a psychologist, I guess." 

"Are you pissed off at him?" 

"I was. But I think the guy might actually know what he's talking about. He was gang-raped ten years ago--so he's been there." 

"You think you might want to see him?" 

"I don't know." Jim looked out the window again. "What I'd most like to do is get on with my life. Going over and over and over what happened isn't going to change it, and spending a set period of time every week pulling it out and looking at it doesn't seem like the best way to move on. But he did make one point that's valid--the review board probably won't let me back on active duty without counseling and the green light from a therapist." 

"So he might be the lesser of the evils, huh?" 

"Maybe." Jim turned back to look at Blair. "He mentioned talking with you. He said it might be helpful if you had some counseling or support to work through this." Jim took in Blair's pallor, the circles under his eyes and the overall strain that seemed to keep his muscles taut at all times. 

"That might not be a bad idea," Blair responded quietly. 

"What worries me the most is...what if I lost control again? I know I can work off some of this excess...anger in the gym when I feel better. But I already hit you once, and God knows what I would have done to you if I'd been able to get it up that day. I was angry, and the whole jealousy thing...I just couldn't get a handle on it." 

"You didn't hurt me." 

"Yes, Blair, I did," Jim countered, laying his hand against Blair's cheek and gently tracing the fading swollen split on his lip with his thumb. "Beyond the obvious, I scared the hell out of you and made you cry, stripped you against your will--if I could do that to you, something is in serious need of fixing." 

"I don't think you're crazy, Jim. But then, to me, therapy isn't about 'sane' and 'crazy', it's about dealing with something that bothers you or is screwing up your life. I think you could deal with this alone--well, you're never alone, but I mean without a therapist. But why should you? I'm sure you could survive a broken bone without seeing a doctor, but there wouldn't be a lot of point to it, and it might not heal as quickly or as well." 

"We'll set up an appointment with him as soon as I'm out of here. Sound like a good idea?" 

"Yeah. It sounds like a great idea." Blair grinned and playfully nipped at the thumb that was stroking his lips. 

"I want to get through this, sweetheart. I want to be able to give you all the love you deserve." Jim reached out his other hand and pulled Blair's face down for a prolonged kiss. 

"I've had more than that from you already." 

"When's the last time you slept?" 

"I don't know." Blair honestly had to stop and think. "I guess night before last. Well, and I slept in the chair here for a half hour or so this morning after your fever broke." 

"Get in." Jim scooted over in his bed. "Loose the shoes first." 

"I'll make you too warm." 

"The fever's on it's way out, baby. I'm okay. Come on." Jim waited while Blair kicked off his shoes and then positioned himself alongside Jim, with his head on the larger man's shoulder. He brought his hand up to rest on Jim's chest. Jim felt the taut muscles relax, and he slid his hand into Blair's hair, massaging his scalp. The smaller man purred like a large cat, and Jim chuckled softly. 

"Don' le' m'slp too long," came the garbled directive. 

"I'll make sure you don't miss anything." Jim kissed his lover's soft curls. "Go to sleep, angel." 

* * *

Blair woke before Jim, and slipped out of the bed to avoid disturbing his sleeping lover. Deciding to take a walk around the hospital corridors just to stretch his legs, Blair was surprised to see Stan being wheeled down the hall by a hospital staffer. The woman behind the chair wore ID from the Radiology Department. Blair knew Stan survived, and that he was recovering in the same hospital, two floors down from Jim's room. For obvious reasons he had avoided visiting him. 

"Good to see that you're up and around again, Stan," Blair said, trying to sound glad to see the other man. He was glad he hadn't died, but he couldn't go so far as to say he had any real desire to see him. 

"Well, I'm getting there. On my way for more tests." 

"How're you feeling?" 

"Lousy, but they tell me I'll be as good as new when this is over." There was an uneasy pause. "How's Jim?" 

"Back in the hospital, actually. He was running a high fever--it's, uh, a virus I guess. Must be he was run down and it just, you know, found a foothold." Blair stumbled through his explanation, realizing that saying Jim "had an infection" that had caused him a fever could sound pretty strange without knowing the background. 

"He's doing all right, I hope?" 

"Oh yeah. He'll be fine. I better let you go before your ride leaves without you," Blair quipped, nodding toward the middle-aged woman who had stopped pushing the chair so he and Stan could exchange a few words. 

"We do need to get you down to X-ray, Stanley," she added. 

"Story of my life lately. Oh, uh, Blair? Just so you know...I'm going to be moving, as soon as I'm up to it. Maybe you can keep your ears open for someone who would work out better as a tenant there, now that you know there'll be a vacancy." 

"Thanks for letting me know, Stan. I'm sorry about what happened--with the shooting. I didn't want to see you get hurt." 

"Yeah, well, I don't think I'd really feel too comfortable living there after what happened. It's probably for the best." 

"Maybe." Blair nodded his agreement. "Well, take care of yourself, and if you need help moving--" 

"I'll call the movers. I think we've done enough neighboring for one lifetime. But thanks anyway, and I'm sorry about the trick I played on you--you know, with the, uh, thing I left upstairs in your place." 

"So am I. I was hoping Jim was wrong about you. I thought we were friends." 

"Yeah, well, that wasn't good enough I guess. I went for all or nothing, and this is what it got me." 

"Take care of yourself, man." 

Blair stood still as Stan waved weakly and the wheelchair resumed its trek down the hall. Stan had been a bone of contention for a long time, and quite frankly, it was kind of a relief to know he was moving on. Jim wasn't inordinately jealous, but when he was, he was violently territorial. And in Jim's case, he _knew_ when he had a reason to mark and protect his territory. He had claimed to smell Stan's arousal around Blair, and that enraged him every time the other man was nearby. Jim could handle Blair's friends at the University, his myriad of acquaintances from all walks of life who sometimes either called or stopped in or visited Blair on campus. They could be young, old, male or female. The difference with Jim was that he knew when someone's intentions were less than honorable where his partner was concerned, and he had no patience dealing with someone prowling around his turf. 

Blair felt a little tingle at being the object of that sense of ownership, and grinned to himself as he headed back down the hall for Jim's room. 

* * *

Jim took a leave of absence from the department commencing as soon as he was released from the hospital. He agreed to cooperate with the DA regarding testimony in the Bernardi case, but for the most part, he wanted to concentrate on his relationship with Blair, their counseling with Dr. O'Brien, both jointly and separately, and on his own decisions about the future of his career. 

Due to jammed court calendars and numerous delays, the trial of Mick Bernardi was scheduled several months down the road. Jim viewed that as both a curse and a blessing. It was a curse in that it would dredge up all the things he was trying the hardest to put behind him, and a blessing in that his testimony would probably be more stable and coherent after several months of therapy and hopefully an increasingly normal emotional and physical relationship with Blair. 

Dr. O'Brien proved to be the perfect solution for both men. He was not opposed to conducting therapy on the move, sometimes going for a long walk on the pier with Jim during one of their weekday sessions. It wasn't heavily traveled during business hours while most people were working, and the warm sunshine and balmy breezes seemed to raise the detective's spirits more than the oppressive setting of an high-rent shrink's office did. Therapy was more of an ongoing conversation than a structured analysis, and Jim found the freedom to discuss some of the more graphic and terrible details of his ordeal liberating. After his own gruesome experience and those of the men he counseled, very little shocked Jack O'Brien. 

Blair, on the other hand, seemed to take some comfort in the structured approach, and in the setting of the psychiatrist's office. Maybe it was that he felt less like he was betraying Jim's confidences when he was in the "confessional" setting of the therapist's office, or maybe it was because Naomi had taken him to a variety to therapists when he was an overactive child with a propensity for anxiety attacks. Being in the doctor's office made it feel more legitimate. So Jack O'Brien took a more traditional approach with Blair, and helped him deal with some of the anger and pain that Jim's rape had built up inside of him. 

The sessions seemed to take an emotional toll on Blair, and after a month, he stopped going, deciding that he had a better chance now of returning to normality by ceasing to take time out to concentrate so heavily on the ugly sides of his life. Jim was home, alive, safe, and progressing well through his own recovery. Blair determined that was the only "medicine" he needed. 

By the end of summer, Jim was only seeing Dr. O'Brien once a month, by their mutual agreement. Jim was recovering, seemed to have his anger channeled constructively into working out, shooting a few hoops with Blair when both men had time or, much to O'Brien's surprise, doing some of Blair's meditation exercises--preferably with Blair at his side. 

Neither man had suggested moving their sexual activity past humping against each other, hand jobs, or the occasional blow job. Blair firmly believed that Jim would make the first move when he wanted sex that way, but also worried that Jim wouldn't take him until he felt ready to reciprocate. Blair had expressed that worry to the doctor, who had told him to simply be honest with Jim--that Blair would like Jim to take him that way and would derive a lot of pleasure from it, whenever Jim felt ready and able, and that he wasn't concerned about keeping score. That phrase struck a note with Blair, hearkening back to their first weeks together when anal sex had been painful, difficult, and rotated as if there were a scoreboard over the bed noting who topped last. 

On a cool September morning, Blair found the manilla envelope containing the last two letters Jim had written, for weeks seven and eight of his undercover assignment. 

"You're awfully quiet up here, Chief," Jim's voice came from the steps as he headed upstairs to the loft bedroom. Blair was sitting on the floor, looking at the envelopes. Jim knelt behind him, wrapping his arms around his lover and kissing his temple. "Let's just toss those, baby. They're just going to make you feel bad." 

"I want to know what you said." 

"I said I loved you, I missed you, and that the only thing I was living for was to hold you again," Jim said gently, taking the envelopes out of Blair's hand and tossing them aside, turning the smaller man so he could kiss his mouth thoroughly. 

"You had to say more than that in two whole letters, lover," Blair replied, pulling back. 

"In the last letter I took care of some business. Told you where some things were, some...not so cheery subjects, baby. No need to revisit that. In the seventh one, I just told you how to touch yourself for me. But now I'm here to do that for real." Jim kissed his way down Blair's neck until he ran into the collar of the t-shirt the smaller man wore. 

"Make love to me?" He asked, looking hopefully into Jim's eyes. He was afraid he'd made a mistake by asking, by wanting that from Jim before he offered it, but the return look of love and lust from his partner squelched those fears. 

"It's been so long," Jim murmured, sliding his arms around Blair as they knelt together on the floor, letting his hands slide down to cup handfuls of denim-covered flesh. Blair whimpered against his neck at the contact. "I don't know if I can...I can't give you that yet, baby." 

"You can't be inside me, or you aren't ready for me to be inside you?" 

"I see it as the same thing, sweetheart. I won't do to you what I don't want done to myself." 

"Even if I like it? Jim--you won't eat some of the things I do, but you'll still buy them at the grocery store. And sometimes seeing how much I like something, you feel ready to try it." 

"It's been almost four months since the rape. I know I should be past this--" 

"You shouldn't be _anywhere_ specifically. This isn't pressure, babe. I just want you so much--and we don't have to keep score. Remember, we agreed on that when we first got married." 

"What if...what if I can't do it to you?" 

"Are you afraid of hurting me or of not being able to do it?" 

"Both," Jim admitted quietly, dropping his eyes away from Blair's gaze. A gentle finger tilted his chin back up again, so their eyes met. 

"You don't have to be afraid of me, lover. If it doesn't work, we'll know it was too soon and we'll wait. As for it hurting, it probably will a little bit because it's been a while. But I want it...I want to feel you that way--I want that connection again." 

Jim stared at him for a long moment, then swooped down on him, claiming his mouth with a passionate intensity. They straightened to stand, still kissing, and Jim grasped Blair's ass possessively, lifting him until his legs wrapped around Jim's waist. He staggered back toward the bed and dropped onto it with his burden. Months of pent-up desire seemed to be pouring out of both men as they efficiently stripped one another, hands and mouths paying homage to every inch of exposed flesh. 

Jim's hands went into Blair's hair, grabbing handfuls of curls and holding his lover's head still while Jim's tongue plundered his mouth. Finally moving away to let the younger man breathe, Jim locked his mouth onto Blair's throat, spurred by the broken little moans filling the bedroom. They had made love occasionally since the rape, but it had been hesitant and almost too gentle. And even that hadn't occurred more than six or seven times in the last two months of Jim's leave from the department. Their lovemaking had only been about love, and reassuring themselves they were back together again, and that things would eventually be all right again. Now, while the almost heart-wrenching love was always present, the physical fire seemed to have its former heat, and Jim seemed more than ready to follow Blair into that fire. 

Lips and tongue brought Blair's nipples to hardness, then added more vibrant passion marks to his chest and stomach as they made their way down to what was now a straining arousal. Smiling as Blair whimpered with need and spread his legs wide apart, Jim ignored the hard shaft and took his time tasting all of Blair's secret places. He hadn't loved him this thoroughly in over four months, and there was no way he planned to rush things. 

"Jim...Ohhhh...touch me...please, lover," Blair pleaded between little grunts of pleasure, his body twitching in reaction to the determined tongue that laved the creases between his stomach and thighs, and then pushed his legs up to gain full access to his tight balls and the soft skin of his perineum. Blair hadn't dared hope Jim would do what he seemed about to do, and when the tongue began licking and teasing the little pucker, Blair screamed out Jim's name and grasped the sheets in frantic handfuls. 

Jim took his time licking Blair's center, darting his tongue in and out of the tight ring of muscle while Blair writhed with the sensations, gasping and moaning. 

"Please, Jim...want you...oooohhhh, ahhh, oh, God, need you..." 

Blair was getting too close to keep teasing him, so Jim abandoned the work his tongue had been doing and found the lube in the drawer of the night stand. Blair was panting, holding his knees up to his chest, completely exposed and shamelessly needful. Jim's own cock filled to capacity at the sight, having taken a little longer than it used to to rise to attention. But now Jim shared the same beastly hunger with his lover, and worked at carefully stretching muscles that seemed almost as tight as they were when Blair was a virgin to this. 

"Jim...Oh...Please, babe..." 

"Shhhh. It'll be me in a minute, sweetheart. You've tightened up a little. Don't want this to hurt more than it has to," Jim explained softly, continuing to scissor two fingers in the tight channel, relieved when he felt Blair's internal walls begin to relax. "This is going to stretch, angel. Might feel sort of like the first time. Let me know if it hurts," Jim managed. 

"I'll be oooohhhhh...okay," Blair accommodated three fingers fairly well, but it was more a tribute to Jim's patience and insistence on the right preparation than it was Blair's body cooperating. He hadn't been penetrated in over four months, and the tight channel seemed to have forgotten its role in this dance. Jim had done a remarkable job of reminding it, before finding Blair's prostate and giving it a few firm brushes with his fingertip. Blair's whole body jerked off the bed in time with the motion, letting out cries of pleasure that couldn't even form words. 

Suddenly the fingers were gone, and Blair opened his eyes to watch Jim kneeling there between his thighs, coating himself with the lube. Jim positioned his cock at the edge of Blair's center, then pushed past the tight ring of muscle, shuddering at the intensity of the sensation. Blair was breathing heavily but relaxing around him, and Jim took the unspoken invitation to move ahead, slowly sheathing himself to the hilt until Blair's legs wrapped around his waist as his arms came up so he could run his fingers into Jim's hair. 

"So good...Oh, God, lover, missed you..." Blair managed, still adjusting to the bulk he hadn't accommodated in months. 

"Breathe, baby," Jim instructed in a strained voice. His eyes drifted shut and he took in the feeling of those tight muscles clenching around him, slowly relaxing, finally letting Blair breathe easily. 

"Jim...oh, man...move...do it..." Blair grabbed the powerful biceps and hung on, goading Jim into motion, throwing his head back, moaning and grunting with each firm stroke. Jim got an evil little smile on his face as he angled his assault to nail Blair's prostate over and over again. He knew giving the little gland a strenuous workout left Blair mindless, screaming, a prisoner to his body's reactions. The intensity left him unable to decide if he wanted to bear down on the invader or to get away from it. 

"Oh, baby...Blair...baby...you feel...so good...so hot...so tight...ugh, ugh...yeah, baby, scream like that for me...gonna make you come," Jim picked up his pace as Blair's hands fell away from Jim's biceps and grabbed handfuls of the sheet, his knuckles turning white. Jim wrapped a strong hand around Blair's weeping cock, pumping in time with his thrusts. 

"Oh, man, hard...harder...oohh...ugh...ahhh...ah...Jim! Oh God...JIIIIIMMM!!" Blair's climax swept over him, spraying himself and his lover with the most powerful orgasm he'd experienced since the last time Jim had been inside him. 

Blair's ecstasy was Jim's undoing, and with a few more thrusts, he finished with a cry of Blair's name, then slumped forward to hold his lover close, their hearts thumping wildly against one another. Hesitant to relinquish the hard won connection, Jim pulled back long enough to look into Blair's drowsy eyes. 

"Feels like finally coming home," Jim whispered, capturing those hopelessly sensual lips in a prolonged kiss. 

"That was so good, babe. So good," Blair whispered, still breathless. Jim kissed him thoroughly, distracting him from the slight discomfort of the large, softened shaft pulling out of his body. 

"Are you okay?" Jim asked worriedly, kissing the end of Blair's nose. 

"Way better than okay," Blair replied, grinning up at him. 

"I didn't hurt you?" 

"No, lover, you didn't hurt me. You were too careful and loving and gentle and wonderful to hurt me. Jim, it doesn't have to hurt. You know that, right, love?" 

"I know." Jim let out a long sigh. "I still...I can't picture..." 

"It's just too soon, mine. But we'll get there. We've got the rest of our lives to get everything back in order. This felt good to you too, right?" 

"If it had felt any better I'd be dead now," Jim responded, kissing Blair's forehead, running his hands up and down the sweaty back and finally coming to rest possessively on Blair's well-loved ass. He kneaded the globes there, feeling Blair groan and his cock twitch again. "You little demon. You're insatiable." 

"Insatiable, maybe. Inexhaustible, no. I need sleep." 

"Me too, sweetheart. I think you drained the last drop out of the old man." 

"Old man?" Blair laughed. "If old men move like that, a young one would kill me." Jim pulled Blair into a bear hug and laughed with him. 

* * *

Blair woke in the early evening, the last rays of the days sunlight streaming in the windows, giving the loft an odd gold aura. Bathed in that light was one Jim Ellison, silhouetted in the window, staring down at the street below. Blair smiled at the beauty of the outline, and at the warmth that spread through him at the memory of their lovemaking. He was tired, a tad sore, and completely sated. He felt complete again, except for the fact that he hadn't come to in Jim's arms. 

"What's wrong, love?" Blair asked quietly. 

"Just thinking," came the soft reply. 

"Suppose you could think over here with me?" Blair asked, grinning. He could almost envision Jim's answering smile, even though the other man's back was to him. Within moments, Jim returned to the bed and slipped between the sheets, gathering Blair in his arms. 

"Better?" he asked, kissing his lover's forehead. 

"Much. You want to talk?" 

"I was thinking about the PD. I've already extended my leave once. I know Simon wants me back on the job. O'Brien thinks I'm good to go if I want to go back." 

"Do you want to go back?" 

"I want my old job back, yeah. But I...I still have the trial to go through, and I don't know as I can handle all my co-workers showing up for ringside seats while I testify." 

"There are bound to be some assholes who hassle us--they did when we got together, and that narrow-minded bunch can be counted on to act like jerks. But you've earned the respect of your colleagues, man. Nobody's going to think that this is your fault, or that you did something wrong. Every cop who goes undercover takes a risk--and when those risks come to pass, it isn't usually their fault. I mean, sometimes it is, but you were careful. I know you, Jim, I know how thorough you are--and so does everybody else. You survived. And you faced Bernardi on his turf, using the same weapon they used on you to badger him, and you held it together. That's courage." 

"It's odd, but I think one of the lowest things I ever did undercover I did on this case. I've sweet-talked women, I've done more than talk in some cases to get what I wanted...and I've betrayed that person in a heartbeat to make the case. It's part of the territory." Jim let out a long sigh. "But Mick was a loner, and since his brother's death, he'd never really had a trusted sidekick...confidante. For some reason, I seemed to fill that bill. I fed some information back to the PD from what he told me. He trusted me with a lot of very real, very personal stuff. And letting me more or less stand in for Andy--his dead brother?" Jim shook his head. "I really hate capitalizing on someone's pain that way." 

"That son of a bitch deserves everything he got." 

"Based on what his response was, yeah, I agree with you. But still, it doesn't change what I did. Maybe it's the duplicity I just don't want anymore as much as the danger." 

"When I carried on that way before you left--and while you were gone--it wasn't because I was too immature to handle your leaving me for a while, even though that by itself hurt like hell. It was...it was a premonition of something awful. I felt as sure as I ever have of any fact I've known that you wouldn't come through the operation all right, and my personal fear was that you wouldn't come through it at all. But the premonition was just something dark, and awful. And I had dreams." 

"About what?" 

"I saw the panther you've described--big, sleek, black--startling blue eyes--like somebody else I know," Blair added, smiling up at Jim, who returned it and kissed the tip the smaller man's nose. "He was in a trap--like a hunter's trap--and the sounds he made were these ungodly howls of anguish. I knew whatever was going to happen would not only hurt or possibly kill you, but it was going to hurt your soul, your psyche. And there was nothing I could do to stop it." 

"Guess the next time you get one of these premonitions, I better listen." 

"I don't want to establish some kind of control over you, Jim. I love you, for better or for worse, forever, no matter what you decide to do. I just want you to understand that I wasn't pitching a fit just because I didn't want to be left alone. I really felt something was going to happen." 

"I know you did. And it unnerved me at the time, but you know, I was the only one really right for the assignment, and it was important to everybody, so..." Jim shrugged. "I felt backed into a corner." He paused. "And maybe after everything that happened last year, I needed to prove something to somebody." 

"Most of the commotion seems to have died down." 

"Yeah, well, the overt stuff has. But the attitudes are still there with a lot of people. I guess I wanted to be able to prove I still had it. Maybe it's more an age thing than anything else." 

"You're not old." 

"Not in an objective sense, no. But in terms of my police career--I'm on the other side of the hill. Maybe not over it yet, but most of the guys pulling off these dangerous undercover jobs are several years younger." 

"You can do anything they can do. Probably longer and a hell of a lot better." Blair chuckled a little and Jim joined him. 

"Why do I feel we've departed from a discussion of police procedure, Chief?" 

"I never said I wasn't biased." 

"I know I have to do something pretty soon--either go back to work or resign." 

"What do you want to do?" 

"You sound like O'Brien." Jim was smiling as he spoke, and Blair knew Jim liked the psychologist, so the comment wasn't a slur. 

"You know it's okay with me whatever you want to do." 

"I know." Jim exhaled loudly. "I guess the big thing is...I don't want to walk in there and have everyone look at me and know what happened." 

"You're embarrassed." 

"Yeah. And it's different than being ashamed. I mean, I've tried to work through that whole thing that it wasn't my fault and I couldn't control it... I guess I'm just a...a private person. I always have been." 

"It's not odd you wouldn't want to share all the details with everybody. Testifying is a very hard step in a situation like this. You know that from the victims you've worked with." 

"You mean the ones I've steam rolled." Jim snorted a little laugh. "I've given the 'if you don't work with the system, the system won't work at all' speech so many times I could do it in my sleep." 

"That doesn't make it wrong." 

"No, but I haven't exactly cut the victims I've worked with much slack. Either they testified or they were no better than the criminals." 

"I never heard you say that to anybody, man." 

"Maybe not. I thought it though." 

"Bernardi might still plead guilty." 

"And pigs might fly." 

"What if the DA offered him a deal?" 

"Why would he get a deal? They've got enough on him. Besides, they can't bargain down multiple homicide charges." 

"So he's just hoping someone will get cold feet." 

"Which is why Tina and I are under constant police protection--well, at least we have a surveillance team watching our comings and goings all the time. Because of Bernardi. You know that." 

"But they think most of his muscle will either run for the hills or are already in the joint, right?" 

"Right. It's not a big worry. They're just taking all the precautions. Actually, Tina knows more than I do in relation to the homicide charges. She got to know some of the girls who knew the girl we found in the dumpster, and she has so very damning evidence on one of Bernardi's goons, who is now singing like the proverbial canary to avoid the death penalty." 

"So if you didn't testify--" 

"The case could probably survive it--at least for the murder charges. But there would be a bigger gap in the prosecution's case because the person who knew Mick best, and was hanging around with him when he gave some of the key orders--in code phrases--to his muscle, wouldn't be testifying. I heard Mick give orders for at least one hit and a beating or two. They were vague phrases that his men understood, but when they're telling the court that Mick gave those orders and that's what it meant, I can corroborate it, because I heard it." 

"Maybe you should wait til after the trial to go back to work." 

"I thought about that. What am I gonna do? Stay home and be a housewife for six months?" 

"I don't know. Is there anything else you could do in the meantime--you know, like maybe teach at the police academy or something?" 

"Yeah, sure. Then I can be the cop who got raped and lived to tell. Won't take long for that word to spread in the academy." 

"Jim, people are going to know. It's fucking unfair that you have to pay the price for what those bastards did to you, but that's the way it is. Maybe you're better off trying your old job and if you get too much flack or you don't feel like you want to be there, you can always resign later." Blair sighed. "I really think you'll be surprised at how much support you get. Besides, how many of those Vice guys have had to do some kinky things to keep their covers?" 

"Plenty. But doing and getting something _done to you_ are two different things. Plus, you don't publicize the unsavory things you do undercover." 

"I think you might be selling your colleagues a little short, man." 

"Maybe. God, Blair, I'm so fucking sick of dealing with this mess. I want to be done with it. If I could just put all this bullshit behind me now and move on with our lives... I know it was a good idea for me to see O'Brien. I'm not second-guessing that decision." 

"I needed some help too. You weren't the only one who had trouble getting a good handle on this whole thing." 

"I know. And I had to...to _wallow_ in it all this time to accomplish some kind of...of _recovery_. But I want to have a normal life again. It's like the physical rape is behind me but the baggage is just hanging on no matter how well I progress in dealing with it." 

"If you don't testify and quit the PD, you know I'm behind you." 

"I know, sweetheart. I also know that you were right way back when I was in the hospital after Bernardi was arrested. I _will_ feel like I didn't follow through--I'll be angry at what they took away from me. I know I need to just keep pushing ahead, but I'm so damned tired, Blair. I want my life back." 

"I know, lover. And we're almost there. The trial is a hell of an obstacle to get over, but we'll do it, and when it's over, we'll still be standing. Bernardi's gonna go down and the thing about Jim Ellison everybody's going to remember is that he's the cop who went through hell in an undercover assignment to bring the son of a bitch to his knees. It was what they did to you that put his men in jail, and their overpowering desire for a plea bargain that really sealed his fate." 

"How do you always know what I need to hear, huh?" Jim shifted onto his side and made a project out of exploring Blair's mouth for long minutes, not really allowing him to answer. 

"Because you're the center of my life, my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night and all my favorite thoughts in between. Because you still leave me a little breathless just by looking at you...I'm so... _awed_ by you. Your courage, your strength, your tenderness, your quick mind... I love you so much, mine. There'll never be words for it." 

"How did I ever leave you?" Jim asked hoarsely, his eyes filling as he stroked Blair's cheek gently. 

"You put your duty above what you wanted to do--you did it for the greater good. And Bernardi's operation is history. You've spent so much time slinking around like you did something wrong. My God, Jim, you're a hero. You survived unspeakable pain, and you still faced Bernardi down one on one and you came out the winner, and he's cooling his heels in jail." 

"I don't know about the hero part, but--" 

"I do, Jim." Blair took a hold of Jim's chin with one hand. "You went into deep cover, which you didn't want to do, and you risked your life and safety every day, and you brought him down, babe. Maybe it wasn't the way--God knows it wasn't the way anyone would want to do it--but you survived it, and you did it." 

"And testifying is the last step." 

"Yeah, it is. Because you're stronger than Bernardi. You're stronger than those four half-witted psychos who tortured you, and you're stronger than any narrow-minded asshole who whispers behind your back. It's going to be a rough time, but you'll make it. And when it gets too much...just like when all the things crash around my ears and I can't take the pressure of what's going on in my life--we have this. We have each other, our home, our life together--that's a safe haven." 

"I want to read you the eighth letter," Jim said quietly. 

"Okay." Blair moved aside as Jim got up and found the envelope, then returned to the bed, gathering Blair against him once more. 

"Dearest Blair, 

If you're reading this letter, chances are things haven't gone as smoothly or quickly as I hoped. Please don't be afraid--I'm not saying anything's gone wrong. It's just not _going_ as fast as I want it to." 

Jim paused. "There are a couple paragraphs about my will and a whole bunch of other stuff." Blair shuddered and burrowed deeper against Jim's side. "We can skip over that. We don't need to dwell on it now." He kissed the top of his lover's head and went back to reading. 

"Missing you isn't just part of my life now. I know that it _is_ my life. Every beat of my heart hurts with your absence. I know how brutally difficult it will be for you if I can't come home. I know what I feel now, and I am so sorry for making you feel it too. If something goes wrong, and you have to feel it forever, I will leave this world sorry for having hurt you that way. 

From the first minutes you were in my life, you were my light, my guide, my heart, my soul. You saved my life when we first met, and you've done it time and again, not always physically, but you are my lifeline, sweetheart. My reason for being. Our time together has been the most amazing, magical, precious time of my life. I never knew love could feel like this. No one ever loved me the way you do, and I've never been driven to tears just by the intensity of my love for another person before I met you. You're the other half of me, baby. No matter what barriers are put between us, I will always be with you. I'll watch over you and love you and wait for you, in this life or in the next. I believe in that now--an afterlife. A love like ours can't die. We are eternal. 

Remember our song, angel? "Timeless Love"? I do. I remember those words, and they go through my mind constantly. These stand out most: 

I don't have to see you everyday,  
Only fools put chains on love,  
And if I had to live life through  
Alone and without you,  
It wouldn't change a thing 

And it won't. You're in my heart and soul, baby. No matter how far away I am, and I'm in yours. We're forever. 

I will do my best to come home to you as soon as I can. If anything should happen that I can't, I wasn't careless, because I have everything to live for--a lifetime with you. Be strong, live your life to its fullest potential--I'm so proud of you, and what you're capable of. 

I love you with all my heart, Blair. Thank you for decorating my life. 
    
    
                             Love forever,
                             Jim"
    

Blair was crying quietly by the end of the letter, more for the pain he knew he would have felt if he'd been reading it alone, with Jim still on assignment. 

"I didn't mean to make you cry, sweetheart. I just wanted you to know...I think the letter said a lot of things more smoothly than I could say right now." 

"It was beautiful. I'll keep it always. I want to keep all of them. I don't know if I can ever stand looking at them again, but I know I can't throw them away. They were so beautiful." 

"Not as beautiful as you." Jim tossed the letter on the night stand and slid down on his side, holding Blair close so they were face to face. After a moment of eye contact that spoke volumes, Jim consumed Blair's mouth in a fiery kiss, pulling the smaller body tightly against his, letting his hand wander down to cup the rounded ass that seemed to fit so perfectly in his hand. He gave Blair a little squeeze and the other man groaned and undulated his hips. J 

im rolled them so he was on his back, with Blair on top of him, the younger man's legs falling to either side of Jim's body, bringing their rapidly engorging shafts into contact. Torn between the desire to plunge into Blair's body a second time that day, and his concern that after so long without this activity his lover might be a bit sore to handle what was destined to be another rough ride, Jim easily chose concern for Blair's comfort. He grasped the cheeks of the younger man's ass in both hands, kneading it possessively. Blair's upper body came up a bit as he braced himself on Jim's shoulders, threw his head back and closed his eyes. He began moaning in time with their movements. 

Jim watched the beautiful naked man atop his body with rapt fascination. Blair was lost in his passion, torn between the sensuous feeling of large, strong hands claiming and massaging his ass cheeks and the maddening friction between their bodies. 

Knowing Blair was close to the edge now, Jim slid his hands up the long, smooth expanse of back and over Blair's shoulders until he framed the flushed, passion-dazed face in his hands. He pulled Blair back down to claim his mouth, sliding one hand into his hair and letting the other wander back to the abandoned ass that was moving wildly up and down in a motion so sexy it pushed Jim over the edge with a cry that was swallowed in Blair's throat. Adding the slippery evidence of Jim's climax to the formula was all Blair needed to come with a moan that echoed between their partially joined mouths. Jim finally released the full lips to let Blair breathe. 

"Oh, man," the younger man panted against Jim's chest, their hearts thundering together like jungle drums. 

"Ditto," Jim responded, cuddling Blair close and waiting for their respiration to return to something near normal. 

"I love you, mine," Blair whispered, finding Jim's mouth again for a lazy dance of tired tongues. 

"I love you too, sweetheart." 

"We'll get through the trial." 

"I know." 

"Please don't worry about the PD or anything else. If it doesn't feel right when you go back, we'll go away together. Maybe you could transfer to another PD." 

"We need to find a place where you can finish your doctorate." 

"There's gotta be another city in the US besides Cascade where that could happen." 

"Probably quite a few." Jim kissed Blair's hair and let himself drift into a drowsy post-sex nap. 

* * *

Jim extended his leave another month, and then decided he had spent enough time hiding out from his co-workers. The trial wasn't until January, and even if they left Cascade for a new life, it wouldn't make much sense to do that and then have to commute back and forth to testify. 

Blair was back up to his neck in work at the University, but he was still, as ever, on the job to accompany Jim for the first trip back to work. He was stunned when Jim took a turn to head for the Rainier campus instead of headquarters on that sunny October morning. 

"Look, Chief, I appreciate you juggling everything to go in with me today, but I've been doing some thinking. I have to walk in there alone. I have to face it myself, without any...insulation. If you're there, I'll have something to hold onto--to hide behind. But if I go in alone, I have to handle things myself. That's what I need to know if I can still do." 

"I understand. But I'm only a phone call away. I'll have my cell phone with me wherever I go today." 

"Thanks," Jim responded, smiling at his lover. 

"Nervous?" Blair asked. 

"What was the first giveaway? Wiping my palms on my pants about four times since we left home?" Jim was chuckling a little. 

"That was kind of a tip-off, yeah." Blair grinned back at Jim, happy that the other man still had his sense of humor. He fervently hoped that was a good sign. 

Jim parked the truck and walked into the Cascade PD for his first day of work since J.J. Rush had taken over his life six months earlier. In a way, he felt like he was pounding the final nails into J.J.'s coffin, reclaiming Jim Ellison's life once more. 

"He looks familiar," came a friendly and well-known voice from behind Jim as he walked toward the elevator. Taggert walked over to greet him, hand outstretched. "Great to see you back, Jim." 

"Thanks. I think it's about time I get the show on the road. Enough vacation." 

"You did us all proud, man," Taggert added sincerely. 

"I don't know as I see it that way, but I made it, so I guess that's a good sign." 

"You brought in Bernardi. I'd say that's a decent day's work. And you did it while you were on sick leave. Talk about making the rest of us look like slackers," he joked. 

"He had Blair. Truthfully, Joel, it didn't have a damn thing to do with duty." 

"Whatever motivated you, it worked." Joel pushed the button for the elevator. "So where's your sidekick?" 

"At the University. I wanted to come in on my own," Jim admitted, pausing for a couple people to get off the elevator and for them to get on, and the doors to close. "I have to know if I can do this." 

"If you're waiting for a lot of staring and finger-pointing, I think we're all a little beyond that. Besides, Vice is a dangerous, dirty area to work in. Hell, man, I don't have to tell you that." 

"No, you don't." 

"The only hard part of your situation is that you can't bury this. You have to face up to it. How many of those guys in Vice, I wonder, have sold their asses for a bust? I'm not finding fault with 'em, but I just want to say that I think most everyone who's worked in as dangerous and sordid an assignment as running Bernardi's skin trade has probably done a lot of things they don't want to talk about." 

"I know when I was in Vice there were things that went on that never went in the reports. I had hoped this would be one of those things." 

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm glad to see you back on the team again." Taggert clapped Jim on the shoulder as he left the elevator and headed down the hall for his office. 

"It's worth a lot," Jim responded, probably too softly for the other man to hear. 

Jim hung up his jacket and moved toward his pristine desk. There was a little evidence here and there that someone had sat there temporarily or used his computer, but today, it was vacant and waiting for his arrival. 

"Just what you wanted to find on your desk," Tina said as she retrieved a mug bearing the image of an old woman and some humorous saying. "I'm afraid I sort of earned squatter's rights at your desk the last few weeks." 

"You got your transfer?" 

"About a month ago." 

"Great. How'd Cameron react to that?" 

"I think his exact words were 'God help Banks and don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out'." She laughed a little. "I expected as much. I'm just relieved to be here and out of there. Simon is very cool to work for," she commented, sitting against the edge of Jim's desk as he tried out his desk chair for the first time in months. Dressed in jeans and athletic shoes and a baggy sweater, Tina looked like one of the gang already. "And it feels so damned good to be able to throw out 99% of the spandex in my wardrobe," she added, laughing. 

"What about the last 1%?" Jim asked, grinning a little as he looked through a few papers that had accumulated in his in box in anticipation of his return. 

"Typical male question. My boyfriend wanted me to hang onto those," she responded, rolling her eyes. 

"Not one of these jerks, I hope." 

"No. You remember Tom Doherty in Vice? I guess you'd say 'an item' now." 

"Tom take you up to the cabin yet?" 

"No. We're supposed to go this weekend, actually." 

"Do you love him?" She looked surprised by Jim's question. He laughed a little. "If you don't, don't make the mistake of going up there." 

"Bad, huh?" 

"I borrowed the keys from him a while back to get some R'n'R. I'll tell you--I'm glad I didn't take Blair because the spiders were bigger than he is. I had to fight a rat for my Eggos." 

"Oh, swell." 

"Tom's a good guy. I've known him quite a few years. We worked a few cases together. I wish you guys the best." 

"Thanks. So where's Blair?" 

"That's 2 for 2. I guess I should have let him come with me." 

"But you wanted to do this on your own." 

"I had to. Tina, I never really thanked you for..." Jim shrugged a bit, not sure how to word it. 

"Not necessary. I'm just glad you're back on the job again." She checked her watch. "And I better get back at it myself. Got to go question some jerk who just beat up his kid. Sorry-- _allegedly_ beat up his kid." She rolled her eyes and started for the door. 

"Welcome aboard," Jim called after her. 

"Thanks. Glad to be here," she responded, partway out the door. 

Jim's next stop was Simon's office. After tapping on the door, he stuck his head in to find the captain brewing his latest concoction in his coffee machine. 

"Coffee?" he offered. "This one's cinnamon flavored." 

"Sounds great," Jim responded, accepting a hot mug and sitting across from Simon's desk. When the other man was seated, he spoke again. "Blair's at the University." 

"I thought he'd be with you. First day back and everything." 

"He was planning on it. I wanted to do this on my own." Jim nodded a little. "I just mentioned it because both of the people I've talked to today asked, so..." He shrugged, smiling a little. 

"I _was_ wondering," Simon responded, chuckling as he took a drink of his coffee. "Some of the guys wanted to throw you a little welcome back party this morning, but something told me you'd like to make a quieter entry." 

"Thanks. I wasn't really ready for a cake and streamers." 

"Don't flatter yourself. You probably would have gotten a donut with colored sprinkles and a couple of coffee mugs shaped like breasts or something equally inspired," 

"That sounds like my last birthday party here," Jim countered, sharing the chortle with Simon about their colleagues' penchant for gag gifts. 

"Well, on the official side of things, we have all the necessary approvals from Dr. O'Brien, the PD shrink and the review board, so you're back on active duty as of now. I'd like you to start out with a light caseload--" 

"Simon, I'm trying to take possession of my life again. I don't want to be on a light caseload. I want my job back." 

"You _have_ your job back, Jim. You never lost it." 

"I'm not unstable here, Simon. I can deal with some pressure." 

"I'm not saying you're unstable. Good God, Jim, you may not be unstable but you sure as hell are defensive. This isn't a slur on your psychological recovery. However, it's the opinion of the review board that any cop who has been off-duty for six months, especially when that was due to a case-related traumatic event, should start slow. I'm actually pumping up what they recommended here." Simon set a small stack of manilla folders on the other side of his desk in front of Jim. "There's a new homicide case, a hit and run, and the Henshaw case." 

"That's still unsolved?" Jim asked, a little of his old interest returning as he located the fat, battered file among the two thin, pristine folders. 

"We can't pin it on the boyfriend, and there isn't any hard physical evidence to tie her murder to any of the other suspects. I know it was yours before it was handed off to someone else while you were undercover, so I thought maybe you'd like to take another stab at it." 

"Bad choice of words, sir," Jim countered, smiling a little at his own dark humor as he reviewed a few notes about the stabbing of a young woman in her home. 

"Oh, yeah, you're doing just fine." Simon laughed a bit. "So get to work." 

"On my way, sir," Jim responded, gathering up the files and heading for his desk. The whole situation felt stunningly normal. 

Continued in part five.


	5. Chapter 5

Due to the length of this story, it's been split into nine parts for easier loading.

## The Secret Life of J.J. Rush

by Candy Apple

Continued from part four.

* * *

**THE SECRET LIFE OF J.J. RUSH - part five**

by 

Candy Apple 

Blair finally gave in and dialed Jim's number two hours after they parted company. He'd resisted the urge as long as he could, and now he had to know that Jim was doing all right before he could concentrate on anything else. 

"Ellison." 

"Hey, lover, it's me." 

"Hi, Chief. How's it going?" 

"That's what I'm calling to find out." Blair was encouraged by the very normal and almost cheerful tone of Jim's voice. It sounded so much like "old times" that Blair found it hard to believe that Jim hadn't been going to work every day for the last several months. 

"I've only been on my own for two hours, Mom. I'm fine." Jim was laughing a little affectionately. "Thanks for checking up on me, sweetheart. I'm really okay." 

"So was there a big party and everything?" 

"No, actually, Simon spared me that. I guess that was the plan, but he figured I might like to make a quieter entry. He was right." 

"Any interesting cases?" Blair was starting to get back in the spirit of things himself, looking forward to working with Jim professionally again. 

"I got the Henshaw case back." 

"Oh, man, I remember that. Didn't her boyfriend kill her?" 

"Well, we thought he did, but the physical evidence wasn't conclusive, and he has an alibi. So we're back to square one. And I've got a couple other more recent things too. Simon wants to start it out slowly--or I guess the review board thought I should." 

"It's probably just as well to break back in gradually. I know I take it easy on my students the first couple weeks of a new semester. Takes time to get the gears moving smoothly again." Blair paused. "So, um, you wanna have lunch?" 

"Are you free?" 

"Actually, I'm pretty expensive. But I can do lunch." Blair was grinning, waiting for the inevitable reply. 

"Smart ass." 

"Give me a call when you get free. I'm just doing some paperwork here, so I can go whenever." 

"Okay. Sounds good. Probably be around 12:30 or so." 

"See you then. Love you." 

"You too." Jim replied before hanging up the phone. 

Only having been separated for two hours, Blair felt it acutely. Somehow, he had managed to do most of his paperwork at home, and only go to the campus for the vital things. Recently, Jim had gone along sometimes, holing up in the library with a stack of books while Blair went about his activities. For a cop, Jim was one of the most voracious readers Blair had ever met. He never was sure which part of the library he'd find his lover lurking in, or what stack of books he'd be exploring. 

Their lives had been blissfully entwined, and Blair felt a little stab of guilt at how much he had enjoyed Jim's leave of absence, even with all its emotional and psychological difficulties. They ended up going almost everywhere together, and Jim's camping in the library while Blair worked at the U often led to a long discussion of something of mutual interest Blair would spot among his selections. //It should be illegal for someone with a face and body like Jim Ellison's to be that damned smart too,// Blair mused, smiling and shaking his head. 

Jim was a worthy adversary in any debate Blair wanted to launch, provided it was in a field of mutual knowledge. Jim didn't claim to have the breadth of topics at his fingertips that Blair did from his additional years of haunting libraries, but he had a surprisingly varied body of knowledge from both his college education and his own reading experiences. When they found common ground, the debate could be endless, and was even more lively conducted in a back corner of the library where neither party could derail the other's concentration by any nefarious means, as was usually the case when they got into one of these discussions at home. 

Blair checked the clock. About two more hours until lunch. 

* * *

Jim's return to work went more smoothly than either Jim or Blair expected. The other cops seemed to understand the need to let J.J. Rush die a natural death, not bringing up the undercover operation or dwelling on the upcoming trial, though there was an undercurrent of enthusiasm about it as fall turned into winter, and the trial loomed on the January horizon. 

Blair did his best to keep their lives focused on the routine, and not on the specter of the trial. When Thanksgiving rolled around, he suggested to Jim that they fix a turkey dinner with all the trimmings and then haul it over to headquarters and feed the cops that drew the short straws to work that day. Jim was more than agreeable to that suggestion, and when news of the party spread through Major Crime and a couple neighboring departments, the number of volunteers for holiday duty took a slight upswing. 

"I think you created a monster here, Chief. This is the biggest turkey I ever saw in my life." Jim heaved the obese, stuffed bird into the large aluminum foil-lined box. 

"Probably would have been easier to just have dinner here. I didn't expect half our friends to show up at the PD for dinner." Blair was diligently packing the side dishes to accompany the turkey from hell on its voyage to the Cascade PD. 

"Simon said that Daryl traded spending Thanksgiving with his mother to spending Christmas with her so he could come to the party with Simon." 

"Bet Joan loved that," Blair said, laughing a little. 

"She gets Christmas now, so I guess she was okay with it." Jim moved over to help Blair pack the side dish carton with the containers. "Seems weird to split kids down the middle like that--you know, like they're a shared time condo or something." 

"Having two parents who want to spend time with you isn't all bad, man." 

"Very true." Jim couldn't argue with that logic, since he knew both their childhoods had left something to be desired in that department. 

* * *

"I'm glad you talked me into going to the gym with you," Blair opined as he entered the home stretch with the loaded food box, Jim right behind him with the turkey as they stepped off the elevator. 

"So am I," Jim responded in a decidedly lecherous tone. Then he froze in his tracks. Pausing for a moment, he set the turkey box down on the floor. "You go ahead to the party, Chief. I'm backing out of this. Simon'll give you a ride home." And with that, Jim was in the elevator with the doors closing before anyone in the office across the hall had time to spot him there. 

"Dammit, Jim," Blair muttered under his breath, left standing alone in the hall with the food. 

"Hey, Sandburg!" Simon walked out into the hall, followed by Rafe and Brown, to help Blair haul in the food. "You going to stand out here with the turkey all afternoon? Speaking of which, where _is_ Ellison anyway?" 

"Sick." Blair formulated an instant excuse that would sound better than saying "he changed his mind and fled before you spotted him". "He's, uh, got this stomach thing--so he stayed home. I'm just going to drop off the food and head back." 

"Oh, man, you're not staying?" Daryl joined them in the hall. 

"Sorry, Daryl. I, uh, don't want to leave Jim too long. He was pretty sick." 

"He seemed fine yesterday," Simon said skeptically. 

"He was, but by last night, man, POW! And he was laid up." 

"Well, tell him to take care of himself," Simon concluded. "Thanks for bringing all this over anyway." 

"You're welcome. I didn't want you guys to all be standing around here turkeyless." 

"Can't you stay and have dinner at least?" Daryl prodded. 

"No, I really can't. I'm sorry to beg off, but I'm worried about Jim." That was the truth. "Happy Thanksgiving, guys." 

"You too, Blair. Tell Jim we hope he feels better," Rafe added, hoisting the turkey box and heading in to the bullpen. 

* * *

As Jim walked along the pier, the cold air biting into his skin, he knew he had pulled a lousy trick on Blair, not to mention the rest of the guys. He was more than a little shocked when another form fell into step next to him. Whether he was more surprised that Blair had found him or that he had managed to approach without Jim noticing, the detective wasn't sure. 

"I was hoping you'd stay and at least have some dinner," Jim said quietly. "You must be freezing your ass out here." Jim knew Blair hated the icy wind that came off the water as winter drew near. Blair shuddered a little, but thrust his hands into the pockets of his leather coat and remained silent. "I couldn't handle going there, sweetheart. I'm sorry I screwed up your day like this." 

"What happened, lover?" Blair removed his hand from his pocket and slid it into Jim's hand. The larger man smiled and squeezed it, incredulous that Blair seemed to forgive him most anything without giving it a second thought. 

"I heard them talking...about the case." 

"With the trial coming up in January, that's probably going to be happening more and more. I mean it sucks, but people are going to be bringing it up, analyzing it." 

"The things they were speculating on were...a little too personal for me to be comfortable walking in there. Simon wasn't out there, I don't think, but it was Rafe and Brown and a couple other guys." 

"What did they say?" 

"They were talking about the, uh...the flashlight. And wondering if, you know, things could ever be...normal...between us. One of them said something about wondering if I'd want to go back to the way things were...since I used to be het." 

"That's none of their fucking business." 

"I thought you were just telling me that this was inevitable." 

"It is. Doesn't make it any of their business. But I guess since they're our friends, they're curious." Blair was quiet a few minutes, just enjoying the feeling of his hand enclosed in Jim's, not really caring how cold it was. "And I think that most men, you know, thinking about sexual assault...it's a new thing to think of themselves as possible victims. Rape is something society associates so strongly with women..." Blair shrugged. "I don't think they meant anything against you by talking about it, but it's gotta shake them up--it could have been any one of them instead of you. It still could be if the situation was right for it someday." 

"True." Jim smiled slightly. "How do you manage to make things look so much less earth-shattering?" He looked down lovingly at his partner. 

"It's my job," Blair replied simply, laughing a little and sliding an arm around Jim's waist as the larger man's arm came around his shoulders. "Want to go somewhere and eat?" 

"If you want to go back to the party, Chief..." 

"You're still not comfortable with that idea, are you?" 

"No. But it isn't fair for you to have a rotten holiday because of my neuroses." 

"You're not being neurotic, Jim. You can hear more than anyone else, so you _know_ if someone's talking about you. That's the difference. I don't blame you for being embarrassed. I would be too. I don't mean you have anything to be ashamed of, but that's personal stuff." 

"I just wasn't ready to go in there and have dinner with all of them after they were just discussing the odds on whether or not you were topping." 

"Does it bother you more that they talked about it or that I'm not?" 

"It all bothers me. But I guess the fact you're not...that I can't handle that yet..." 

"There are a lot of rape survivors who can't ever have any kind of enjoyable, healthy sex life after their ordeal. We _do_. We have a great sex life. We're just down to the fine tuning, and there's no rush about that. I'm not losing any sleep over it." 

"But it's not fair to you." 

"I loved you for years without even kissing you. Do you seriously think I'm going to walk away because I can't top right now?" 

"No, I don't think you'll ever walk away. But that doesn't make it fair." 

"It wasn't fair that you were raped. You didn't deserve to be violated and tortured that way. It wasn't fair but it happened. It isn't fair that there are still things that make you uneasy or nervous or uncomfortable because of what those bastards did, but there are, and we just have to cope with it. We will." 

"What if I can't ever let you do that?" 

"Then we'll spend the rest of our lives together doing everything else we do so well together, in bed and out of it. And I won't feel deprived." Blair let his head droop onto Jim's shoulder. "Everyday I have you here, alive, with me...that's a gift. Doesn't matter what we're doing together, as long as we _are_ together." 

"I missed you so damned much when I was gone," Jim reflected, squeezing Blair's shoulders and kissing his hair lightly. "I didn't know it would be as hard for you as it was. I wouldn't have gone if I'd known." 

"I was so lonely without you. I didn't want to do anything." 

"Let's go find someplace to have dinner and then go home and let nature take its course," Jim suggested, flexing his eyebrows. Blair chuckled at that and the two men returned to Jim's truck and headed for the nearest open restaurant. 

* * *

Blair lay naked on his stomach on the bed, relaxing and enjoying the sensations of Jim massaging his center with slick fingers. He spread his legs wider to allow better access, content and sated from the climax Jim had dragged out of him with a very talented mouth. Now he was happy to recover and let Jim take his pleasure, though he felt a few dangerous stirrings in his cock as he wiggled his rear a little to show his approval. 

"Like that, huh, baby?" Jim teased, circling the opening again with a finger that went in just far enough to excite but not far enough to find the internal nub that would undoubtedly be the key to bringing Blair to a second climax. 

"Mmmm. Feels good like that...with your fingers." 

"You like it when I massage you like this?" 

"Ooooh, yeah," Blair moaned, wiggling his butt again, trying to pull Jim's fingers deeper. 

"I love watching your ass...watching my fingers going in and out," Jim breathed against Blair's ear as he leaned over him. 

"Deeper," Blair pleaded, thrusting back again. 

"Love you, angel," Jim whispered against Blair's hair until he angled his fingers to find the little nub and smiled as Blair cried out and his body spasmed at the stimulation. 

"Oh, man, I'm ready, please?" Blair moved up on his knees and took a hold of the railing behind the bed, thrusting his ass out invitingly, spreading his knees apart wide. 

"You want it now, baby?" Jim was coating himself now, watching Blair's wiggling behind with its invitingly slick opening, reaching a painful hardness. He moved up behind the smaller body and sheathed himself in one long, steady stroke. 

"Come on, lover, move...let me have it..." Blair gasped, thrusting back against Jim, who lost whatever fragile hold he had on his control and began treating his aching cock to the workout it craved, sliding rapidly in and out of the tight tunnel that clenched around him. 

"Ugh...oh, man...so good...God, baby, you're...ugh, perfect. Love...your ass...so hot...so tight..." Jim grinned at the strangled moans that came out of Blair. The only thing that aroused Blair more than having something vital massaged or stroked was the right set of words. Not normally given to a lot of speech-making during sex, Jim had fun watching and listening to--not to mention feeling--the results of his words on his overheated, needy partner. "So good, so tight...oh, yeah...move for me, angel...you've got all the moves, baby," Jim added. 

"T-touch me," Blair pleaded between moans, his knuckles white where he held the railing. 

"Like this?" Jim managed in a strained voice, taking a firm hold of the engorged, leaking shaft. "Feel good?" Jim teased, feeling his own ability to speak waning as he felt the beginnings of his climax rippling through his body. His strokes quickened. 

"Oh, God, ohhhh....yeah....harder...ugh, ugh, ugh..." Blair was lost in a pattern of grunts and shouts until he stiffened and the muscles around Jim's cock tightened convulsively as Blair's completion bathed his lover's hand and the bed as a long cry came from the depths of his throat. Jim felt his own climax race up and overtake Blair's, both of them coming within seconds of each other, cries mingling, until they fell in a sweaty heap, still joined, on the mangled bedclothes. 

"You're beautiful, baby," Jim whispered into Blair's ear. "Sexy, hot and beautiful. I love you with all my heart, angel." He gathered Blair against him and turned them spoon style on their sides. "I'll always love you, baby. You're my treasure," Jim murmured, kissing Blair's ear and tracing the shell with his tongue. "Being inside you is the most beautiful experience in the world. You _are_ my world." Jim smiled at the little catch in Blair's breathing and leaned over to kiss away the single tear he knew would be there. He hadn't made love to Blair with his words in a long time. 

"I love you, mine. Mine. All mine," Blair repeated possessively, resting his arms on top of Jim's where they wound around Blair's body. "Sometimes I can't believe you're mine. I have to keep saying it because you're so...so incredible that I can't believe you picked me out to fall in love with. You're so amazing that looking at you just makes my heart flip over. I want to stay here forever like this. All joined together." 

"Happy Thanksgiving, sweetheart." 

"Happy Thanksgiving, lover." 

* * *

The first days of the Bernardi trial were fairly uneventful. Opening statements and routine testimony from minor players in the undercover operation filled most of the court's time, though the prosecution's emphasis of the "brutal beating and sexual torture of an undercover police detective" had the press salivating for details. The judge had already approved a closed courtroom for Jim's testimony, and his name was to be kept out of the newspaper. The prosecutor had effectively argued that a male cop deserved the same dignity and privacy in a situation like this one that a female civilian could expect. Once it was a matter of the trial transcript, there wasn't much hope for it not to be front page news, even without Jim's name. 

January had already dumped mountains of snow on the citizens of Cascade, and Jim had racked up more overtime taking shifts for guys who couldn't make it in or who ended up in ditches in the attempt than he had in the past year. Blair had teased him about being the only cop who had a pack of sled dogs on stand-by in case the truck didn't start. 

Whatever gossip was flying around about the trial, most of Jim's colleagues were considerate enough to keep it out of what they considered to be his earshot. Of course, they hopelessly underestimated that range, and Jim was annoyed to no end by the trading of stories and half-truths about his assault and how he ended up in that situation to begin with, and what kind of sex life he had with his male lover "all things considered". Simon had offered him some time off, but he felt sitting at home and dreading the trial would only make it worse. 

Perhaps most disturbing was that the fourth among Jim's assailants had not yielded to a plea bargain with the DA. Instead, he continued to insist that the entire incident with Jim wasn't unusual--that some of the guys who hung around Bernardi's leather clubs liked a little rough action, and that while in his J.J. Rush persona, Jim had spent a considerable amount of time in those bars, and had frequently left with other men. According to this man, "J.J." had come on to him and insinuated that he was looking for some rough, dangerous action, and that he wanted to live out a rape fantasy. 

There was little question that this man was in fear of his life from retaliation from the crime family he worked for, but he also saw a chance to argue his way out of the most serious of the charges. The DA had shrugged off the whole situation, saying that one dirtbag telling a tall tale wasn't worth worrying about, but it still gave the defense a wider field of unpleasant questions to toss at the prosecution's star witness. 

As if in conspiracy with the legal system to fray the grad student's nerves to their breaking point, Blair's dissertation committee had shredded his last two chapters, so the depressed anthropologist was revising and re-writing yet again. Jim knew that most of Blair's troubles stemmed from choosing a subject in which he had much less field experience and much less interest than the sentinel project. He knew the right thing to do was to encourage Blair to go on one of the expeditions the younger man's colleagues occasionally suggested to him, but he honestly couldn't stand the thought of packing Blair off to some pre-civilized community for several months. For his part, Blair seemed equally unwilling to go. 

It was a bedraggled and slightly sleep-deprived Blair that made a side trip from the campus on a morning Jim had off from work to visit Simon. Jim wasn't due in until eleven at the earliest, since he had worked a sixteen-hour day the day before, and Simon had told him to sleep in and come in when he was ready. 

"I need to see Jim's statement," Blair said quietly as he took a chair across from Simon's desk." 

"Why?" Simon's face clearly displayed his shock at the request. 

"Because I need to be there for Jim. And if I'm hearing all this stuff for the first time when Jim tells it, I'm going to lose it. I know that. I won't be good for anything." 

"Blair, I don't know about this--" 

"Simon, please. Jim's told me only generalities, and the rest I can pretty much guess at, but he wants me to be there when he testifies, and I want to, but if I have to get hit stone cold with the details, I don't know how much good I can do him while I'm handling my own reactions." 

"Okay. Wait here." Simon left the office for a few minutes, and returned with a manilla folder, closing the door behind him. "This is the transcript of Jim's statement. I have a few errands to run. Take your time with it." 

"Thanks, man. I appreciate it." 

"You're right about needing to prepare yourself. But, Blair, this isn't a pretty story. It's sadistic and violent and horrible. So bear that in mind before you read it." 

"I know. It doesn't change the fact that I need to do this." 

"Okay. I'll be back in a while." Simon grabbed his coat and left the office. 

Blair opened the folder and began reading. It wasn't long before he had to raise his glasses and dry the first of many tears that burned his eyes. 

Jim described being herded into the black sedan and transported from Bernardi's office to the warehouse, where he was first tied seated in a chair, to suffer the first stage of the beating. Convinced he wasn't going to give in easily and hand over any information on how extensive the infiltration of the Bernardi Family was, they had moved to what they called "more persuasive measures". 

It had taken all four men to successfully overpower the detective, who had fought with every move he'd ever learned in his professional life. That had earned him the most severe of the blows to his stomach and sides that had resulted in the cracked ribs, and the blow to the head which had left him with a mild concussion. He had regained consciousness bound spread-eagled at the wrists and ankles, naked from the waist down. 

The rest of Jim's account was a mixed but very graphic detailing of voices, taunts, threats and finally, the rape itself, in which all four men had participated in one manner or another. Though none of them had used their own "natural equipment", it was obvious from Jim's account that some other object had been used prior to the flashlight, and it didn't appear that Jim remembered hearing Bernardi's voice. That wasn't surprising since he was already badly beaten and in considerable pain from the first stage of the rape when the man arrived. 

A few of the detectives in the bullpen noticed the retching sounds from the captain's office, but it was Rafe who finally ventured to the door, tapping on it and poking his head inside. Blair was on his knees on the floor near Simon's desk, having vomited violently into the waste basket. 

"Blair?" He moved inside the office and shut the door. "Hey, man, are you okay?" He crouched by the shaking form on the floor. "Maybe it's that flu--" He stopped as Blair shook his head vigorously, clamping a hand over his mouth not to stop from being ill again, but to stifle the volume of the sobs that were coming out whether he wanted them to or not. 

"I need a minute," he croaked at Rafe, who started to stand, then thought better of it. Jim and Blair were both his friends, and if Jim knew what kind of pain Blair was in, the last thing he'd want to see was Blair dealing with it alone. 

"You're among friends here, Blair." Rafe put an arm around the shaking shoulders. 

"I...r-read...the st-statement...Jim's...the r-rape," Blair choked out, still seeming a bit stiff with someone other than Jim comforting him. 

"Don't worry about those bastards. They won't get away with this." A little unsure of how far to push his consolation on Blair, Rafe tentatively pulled the other man against him with both arms, and was somewhat relieved when the only response was a total lack of resistance and rest of the tears Blair needed to shed, drawing strength from someone else instead of giving it to Jim. "Jim's one of our own. We don't let something like this pass." 

"What...?" 

"Don't worry, Blair. They won't get near Jim again. We're going to look out for you guys. This is a family here, and nobody fucks with part of this family. You're not alone, man. You've got lots of friends, and lots of support." 

"I'm so tired," Blair confided, not moving to pull away just yet. "My dissertation's...all...fucked up. I-I d-don't want to...tell Jim because...he'll feel guilty...and it isn't...his fault." 

"Can you fix it?" 

"If I...I could think, maybe. But it's like...my mind's...all messed up." 

"You were seeing Jack O'Brien, right? Maybe you ought to call him." 

"Jim doesn't need him anymore." 

"We're not talking about Jim. We're talking about what you need. Call your doctor, Blair. You need somebody to talk to." 

"I know," Blair said, swallowing a couple of times and pulling away now, looking a little embarrassed. "I'm sorry about this, man." 

"Don't apologize to _me_ , pal. It's _Simon's_ $50 wastebasket you just puked in." Rafe flashed a grin at Blair, who couldn't help laughing. 

"I'll call Dr. O'Brien later. Thanks, Rafe." 

"Am I interrupting something here, gentlemen?" Simon asked, puzzled as to why a police consultant and one of his detectives were on their knees on the floor of his office near the wastebasket. 

"Did you really pay $50 for that wastebasket, Simon?" Blair asked. It was Rafe's turn to laugh. 

* * *

Blair called Dr. O'Brien soon after leaving the precinct and arranged to meet with him that afternoon. Feeling guilty not only for not telling Jim what he was doing but also for going back whining to the doctor when Jim was functioning well without therapy, the man who finally took a seat nervously in the doctor's office looked as if he wanted to be anywhere except where he was. 

The office was furnished in obviously good quality pieces, but the comfortable leather furniture was arranged like a rec room, with the desk an afterthought against one wall of the room. Jack O'Brien's approach was casual; he sat down in comfortable furniture, sometimes with his feet up, to "visit with" his patients. 

"Should I bother sitting down?" Jack asked, smiling. Blair looked confused as he sat perched on the edge of a large leather chair. "You look like you're about ready to make an escape attempt." 

"I don't know why I'm here." Blair was up on his feet and pacing. 

"You said on the phone that you felt like you needed to talk. One thing you need to do is relax, Blair. You're the one who was trying to teach me all those breathing exercises after I found out about my high blood pressure last month." 

"Yeah, well, do as I say, not as I do, so to speak," Blair responded, finally slouching back in the chair. "I don't know what's wrong with me." 

"Why do you think anything's wrong with you?" 

"Jim isn't here, and he's the one who was raped. He's getting on with his life as best he can under the circumstances, and I'm back here crying to the shrink. No offense," Blair added hastily. 

"None taken." Jack leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, smiling. "You give Jim a lot of moral support, don't you?" 

"I try." 

"Who supports you?" 

"We've talked about all this before." 

"Just answer me." 

"Well, Rafe was really nice about everything today--I read Jim's statement...he doesn't know I did that, but I'm going to hear it all in court in a few days, and I want to be there for Jim, and I knew if I heard it for the first time then, I'd lose it." 

"Okay, so we have Rafe giving you moral support. Do you talk to him pretty regularly?" 

"Of course not. He works with Jim--he's a colleague. Like I'm going to tell him stuff like this." 

"Your mother still doesn't know?" 

"She's in India with a couple of friends--they're doing research on reincarnation." 

"I'd like to meet your mom one of these days. She must be a fascinating lady to talk to." 

"She is," Blair replied, smiling for the first time. "She's been everywhere twice, I think." 

"Must be genetic, huh?" 

"Yeah, I guess I pretty much have too. We both like to travel." 

"But you can't reach her to talk, right?" 

"Not very easily." 

"How about at the University?" 

"This stuff is too personal--I mean, personal to Jim. I don't feel right talking about _his_ rape to other people. It's like humiliating him all over again." 

"So you have no one to talk to is what this boils down to. No one but Jim, to whom you're giving support. And you're right, we have gone over this before because you only think in terms of your needs as they relate to Jim's. If Jim doesn't need to see me, therefore you don't either. If Jim doesn't want the rape discussed with outsiders, you do without any moral support. So I'm going to put this in terms that maybe will make you feel comfortable to at least come here and talk to me when you're having a bad day. You are trying to be a stronghold for Jim, a support system for him to fall back on. If you're a basket case, you aren't going to be able to really be there for Jim the way you could if you were getting your emotional and psychological needs met. So think of it as refueling so you can be of greater help to Jim in his recovery." 

"But why do I still fall apart like this when he's so...together?" 

Jack was silent a few moments, as if trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say without betraying Jim's confidence. 

"There are a couple things you need to understand about Jim. For one thing, control is very important to him. That's not a news bulletin to you, I'm sure." 

"Not really," Blair replied, chuckling a little. 

"To Jim, recovery means getting back in control--and part of that is walking away from therapy. Not needing it. It gives Jim a greater sense of well-being to not need to talk to me all the time. If he can manage, he feels stronger, more 'normal' again. This isn't anything he's told me, but it's something I've observed. And it was very true of my own recovery. And the other thing you need to realize is that there is no such thing as 'getting over' something like this. I'm not 'over' what happened to me even now. Sometimes things set me off, upset me. I have an occasional nightmare--though that's pretty rare, thank God. The point is, Jim is _not_ in the habit of sitting and talking openly about his feelings. That's not always a big release for him. It's an effort. You're a talker, Blair. From what you've told me, your mother is very expressive, you were raised to be very genuine, and to be very open with your feelings, and to talk about them. For you, talking helps. It makes you feel better. For Jim, it tires him out and drains him and makes him feel like he's reliving a lot of old misery." 

"But therapy helped him." 

"Sure it did. There were a lot of issues for us to work on, and it was a good idea for Jim to have some professional help to do that. He may come back to me from time to time in the future, if he feels the need to." Jack took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Every one of us has different emotional needs. You can't gauge yours in terms of what Jim's are. You aren't weak or selfish or wrong because you feel a need for some ongoing counseling and Jim doesn't at this point." 

"How am I gonna hold up for him in court?" Blair asked, his voice breaking. "What they did to him...I didn't know all the details before but now..." Blair covered his mouth with one hand, vainly trying to pull back tears. 

"Jim never did tell you everything then?" 

Blair shook his head. "I had a pretty good idea, from Jim's injuries and what he _did_ tell me, but..." Blair swallowed again, wiping at the tears that were escaping. 

"Blair, when you love someone as deeply as you love Jim, you feel their pain. You've felt his pain with him in a non-specific way throughout this whole ordeal, but now you have images to go with those feelings." 

"I wish I could...go back and make it...be me...instead of him." Blair had given up on controlling the tears. They were coming and there was nothing he could do to stop them. "I want to kill every one of them. I never wanted to kill someone before." 

"Is that what's upsetting you the most?" 

"No...I don't know. All of it is. My dissertation's falling apart. My committee's on my back because my writing is so shitty and I miss all my deadlines and my work isn't well thought-out." 

"So reading Jim's statement this morning was the tip of a very large iceberg." 

"Jim was the one who was raped and I'm the one falling apart. I don't get it." 

"You just said you'd rather have been the one to be raped than to see Jim as the victim. It hurts you more to see Jim hurt than it does to be hurt yourself. Is that accurate?" 

Blair just nodded, letting his sobs come out unhindered. Jack had probably seen worse displays before and would see worse ones in the future. 

"That's your answer. This is harder for you to get past because it's Jim's pain. You can't love someone more than to want to take their pain. And you can't take it away for Jim. You can support him and love him and be there for him, but you can't make it right again. You can't guide him this time." 

Blair's head shot up and his eyes widened. 

"Jim explained the situation about his senses to me. I frankly thought he was stark raving bananas," the unprofessional term drew a watery chortle out of Blair, "but then he demonstrated. I don't pretend to understand it, but it was important to me in understanding your relationship. Aside from loving Jim enough that you would happily die for him or accept torture or pain in his place given half the chance, you are used to being able to 'make it better' when Jim's in pain. You've spent years devising ways to make his life easier and more pleasant and bearable for him. But this time you can't. You're on the outside of this pain, because Jim has to find his own way out of it. You can be the light at the end of the tunnel for him--and don't ever doubt that you are, because your support and the way you've stood by him is the most important external factor in his recovery. But you can't go in the tunnel with him this time. He has to suffer through this and make his own peace with it. I did, and there are still days I get stuck in the tunnel." 

"I want to do something that's going to make this easier for him." 

"Do you think killing the men who did it would do that?" 

"Yes. He wouldn't have to testify." 

"You'd have to kill Bernardi too, because his trial is the big problem here, isn't it?" 

"Yes," Blair replied, pulling himself together a little. 

"Do you want to do that?" 

"Yes." 

"Really?" 

"Yes." Blair met the doctor's eyes with unwavering conviction. "If there was a way, I would." 

"Why?" 

"So Jim could put this behind him." 

"You'd go to prison." 

"Probably." Blair got up and walked over to the window. 

"So Jim would spend the rest of his life alone." 

"It's not rational. I know that. I just want them to stop hurting him." Blair felt the tears welling up again, and didn't worry anymore about stopping them. "This trial is so humiliating for him. To have to tell that in court...and that son of a bitch that was in on raping him is going to sit there and say somehow that they thought he was cruising the leather bars looking for a good time, that they were just giving him the 'connoisseur treatment'--acting out his 'rape fantasy' for God's sake." 

"You do realize that killing them would only cause Jim much greater pain because he'd lose you too?" 

"I know. I won't do it. I just want to. And that bothers me." 

"It's a very natural feeling." 

"Not for me." 

"Jim usually protects you, doesn't he?" 

"I guess." 

"If someone hurts you, he's pretty inclined to attack first and ask questions later, isn't he?" 

"Yeah." 

"Jim is your life partner, your mate. It's our basic animal instinct to protect our own, our mates. Obviously, this isn't the jungle, as much as it may resemble it sometimes, so we can't act on those feelings. But that doesn't take them away." 

"I don't like walking around wanting to kill someone all the time. It's so... _wrong_." 

"It's destructive and counterproductive. Whether or not it's wrong is all an issue of morals. Are feelings _wrong_ if you don't act on them?" 

"It's bad karma." 

"So was raping Jim." 

"I thought you were going to help me get a handle on this." 

"I'm trying to do that. You're not _wrong_ for feeling angry or even homicidal. That's nature--raw instinct. They hurt your mate, your animal instinct says 'kill'. But those feelings _are_ destructive, which is why you have to find a way to put them in perspective." 

"What if I can't?" 

"What's more important to you--revenge or your life with Jim?" 

"You know the answer to that." 

"Humor me," Jack shot back, deadpan. 

"Jim is the most important thing in my life." 

"Then you need to work out your anger just like Jim needed to work out his. Find some kind of release for it." 

"Like pounding on an old mattress or something?" 

"Something like that, yes," Jack replied, smiling. "You don't like to be angry, do you, Blair?" 

"No." 

"Negative energy, bad karma, upsets the internal rhythms?" Jack continued to smile as Blair stared at him, surprised to hear all his own terminology come out of the doctor's mouth. 

"Y-yeah," he responded, suspicious where this was leading. 

"Can I share a theory with you?" 

"Sure." 

"How about sitting down again?" 

"Okay." Blair returned to the seating area and perched on the edge of the chair. 

"You told me that Jim's problem was repression--or at least you thought his single greatest emotional challenge was that he was taught to repress his feelings." 

"Yeah." 

"But we're talking 'softer' feelings--fear, sorrow, insecurity, that kind of thing. Anger and aggression, that's okay to let out in Jim's world, right?" 

"I guess. The military, the PD, even his dad--I guess nobody really told him not to get mad. His career is aggressive, sometimes very violent. He doesn't contain anger real well," Blair concluded with an affectionate smile. 

"Blair, you were conditioned with just as much repression as Jim was." 

"What are you talking about? You just told me that I was taught to be open and expressive. You can't have it both ways." 

"Open and expressive with your 'softer' feelings. Love, compassion, empathy, fear, sorrow, grief, insecurity, hurt. But what about anger? What did your mother think of anger? What did she say when you were angry as a child?" 

"She never came down on me for throwing a tantrum." 

"But when you did, what did she say?" 

"That it was negative energy, and that it was bad karma, and that I should learn to process my anger and then she'd help me meditate or do some breathing until I calmed down." 

"You should 'learn to process it'. In other words, you should take your anger and transform it into something acceptable, because the anger itself isn't." 

"You're twisting what she said." 

"No, I'm not. But your mother didn't approve of anger or aggression in its raw, passionate form, did she? It was supposed to be _processed_. That might make sense to you now, as an adult, and it's a very positive thing to evaluate your feelings and channel them in a positive manner. But it can be damned confusing for a child. Did you like meditating when you were a child?" 

"No." 

"What bothered you the most about it?" 

"Sitting still so long...not doing anything." 

"How long did those sessions last?" 

"As long as it took til she thought everything was okay again." 

"Give me a 'for instance'." 

"We were living in an apartment in this building, and I got to be sort of friends with this other kid--I was eight, I think. I had this car with a little motor in it--not one of those that kids can ride in, but just a little model. He broke it when we were playing, and I punched him right in the nose." 

"How did that feel?" 

"Great," Blair replied honestly, laughing a little. 

"What did your mother say?" 

"She had to fix his nose first. But after she took him home, she came home and told me she was very disappointed in me." Blair took a deep breath. "I wish she had just yelled at me or even spanked me. That hurt worse...knowing she was disappointed..." 

"So that was it?" 

"No. She told me I had to learn how to channel my negative energy. She made me sit there until she thought I had done that. We both sat on the floor, you know, in the lotus position." 

"For how long?" 

"Two hours." 

"You don't consider that pretty harsh?" 

"She didn't hit me or anything. She never even raised her voice to me. She rarely did." 

"But you said it would have been easier if she had." 

"I guess." 

"Blair, when you were angry, when you felt aggression related to anger, any time after that, what was the first thing that occurred to you?" 

"That I was disappointing her." 

"So how do you deal with anger?" 

"I process it...most of the time. I still get pissed off and lose my temper sometimes." 

"But not until you're provoked or pushed to your limits." 

"I guess." 

"So you were conditioned through a very effective _emotional_ punishment to stifle your anger and not to be aggressive. If you had to put anger into a category, right or wrong, where would you put it?" 

"In the 'wrong' category." 

"Why?" 

"Because...I don't know. It just is." 

"Because...?" 

"When I get angry, I-I fail. I'm not processing my feelings the way I should." 

"So how is 'processing' different from repression when it comes to feelings your mother didn't approve of?" 

"She didn't say don't be angry. She just said I should process those feelings." 

"I'm sure no one told Jim 'don't be sad'--I would say 'don't be a crybaby' would be more accurate. The very elements you see about Jim's personality with regard to repressing his emotions are very closely paralleled to the kind of _repression_ you were taught when it comes to anger. The feeling still comes, but you push it down." 

"But you have to do that." 

"Sure you do, to some extent. You have to contain your anger, because you have to live peacefully in society and with your loved ones and friends. But when you first _feel_ the anger, how do you label the feeling--right off the top of your head, quick." 

"Wrong." 

"So there's the heart of the matter, Blair. You're shredding yourself up inside because no one can process the anger you have to be feeling into a lot of deep breaths and meditation without some more violent thoughts cropping up. Is it wrong to get mad at the people who hurt Jim and to want to make them suffer in return?" 

"Well, yeah." 

"To feel it. Not to do it." 

"I guess...I guess not." 

"Was it wrong of you to feel angry at the kid who broke your toy?" 

"I guess not." 

"Was it wrong to hit him?" 

"Yeah." 

"So where's the line?" 

"The line?" 

"Between healthy, normal anger, and unacceptable aggression?" 

"I don't know." 

"Blair, you just defined it for me with your own answers. It was wrong to hit the other child. Was it _wrong_ to feel the anger? Did just feeling angry make you a bad person?" 

"No." 

"So would it be wrong to murder the men who hurt Jim?" 

"Of course." 

"Is it wrong to feel the anger?" 

"I guess not." Blair looked at Jack, showing a little glimmer of hope in his eyes. 

"You're right. It's a feeling, Blair. A very healthy, perfectly natural response to someone you love being brutalized. Now you still have to process it, as your mom called it. But you have to allow yourself to feel it, and not judge yourself as a bad person because you feel violent anger." Jack sighed. "I am _not_ suggesting that Naomi was wrong to teach you to channel your anger into something other than physical aggression. That element of what she taught you was right on. However, teaching you that you were a disappointment if you felt anger, and making a child the age you were sit still for two hours and meditate is actually a very severe punishment." Jack held up his hand as Blair started to open his mouth. "And I'm sure she didn't mean it that way." 

"She always treated me like an equal, and she handled negative feelings that way--by meditating." 

"At eight years old, you're not your mother's equal. You understand now the benefits of handling your feelings through meditation, and as an adult, you can do that effectively. For an eight year old, that was like a very severe 'time out' rather than meditation. Did you really meditate while you sat there?" 

"No." 

"What did you do?" 

"Watched my mom until she caught me and told me to close my eyes again. Then I just sat there and wondered how long it would be before things would be okay again, and she wasn't mad anymore." 

"Do you like meditation now?" 

"Yes. It centers me, gets me relaxed, gives me time to process the things that are going on my mind--not repress them, but think them through, see some clear answer as to how to handle them." 

"How do you feel right now about your anger?" 

"I think I understand it better. It's not as...as scary as it was before. I guess I see the difference between feeling and doing--in terms of right and wrong." Blair sighed. "It feels better to have said it right out--that I want to kill them all. That I probably would given half the chance. But now I _want_ to process those feelings, find my center, find some way to handle it constructively." Blair paused. "The feelings upset me more than usual, because they weren't going away. I can usually let anger go. I can't this time, and I guess it's something I just have to accept is there, and work on." 

"You want to start coming back in to talk with me once in a while?" 

"Yeah." 

"Once a week all right?" 

"That sounds good." 

"Is there anything about Jim's statement you want to talk about?" 

"Not now. I, uh, kind of want to go see Jim." 

"Okay. Can I make one more recommendation?" 

"Sure." 

"Take a leave of absence from Rainier. You need a little time to get yourself together. Your dissertation is turning into the nightmare it is because your mind is split too many ways. I've been down this road before--I mean getting my doctorate. Thankfully, I had just gotten it before my incident, but I know that it can be an all-consuming project. You're putting too much strain on yourself, Blair. You're teaching, working with Jim, giving Jim moral support, dealing with your own anger and pain about Jim's rape, worrying about the trial--which you still have to make it through, and on top of all that you're trying to sit down at your keyboard and produce something profound for your committee." 

"I'm on a teaching fellowship, Jack. If I don't teach, I don't get my stipend, and if I'm not doing research, I don't get any grant money." 

"If I write you a letter verifying your need for a leave of absence, would they let you back in for the Spring or Fall semester if you were to take the Winter semester off?" 

"I think so." 

"Don't you think Jim would be able to cover the bills for a few months?" 

"Yeah, I'm sure he could. I just don't like to live off him that way." 

"Maybe it would make Jim feel good to do that for you. He likes taking care of you, even if you don't need it most of the time. It's good for him to feel needed right now, and feeling like the breadwinner for a few months certainly won't hurt his self image." 

"Nice sales pitch, doc," Blair challenged, smiling. 

"Okay, so I'm trying to make you see taking care of yourself as something positive for Jim, because you're a hell of a lot more likely to do it that way. But nothing I said was a lie." 

"If you can write me the letter for documentation, I'll go talk to my advisor tomorrow." 

"Stop by the office in the morning and get it." 

"Okay. Thanks, Jack." Blair stood up and so did the other man. 

"No problem. That's what I'm here for. Let Shelly know that you're going to be coming in once a week, and she'll get you set up with some appointments." 

"Right. Thanks again. I probably screwed up your schedule." 

"I just reworked the schedule a bit. And I think we had a worthwhile session today." 

"So do I." 

"Take care of yourself, Blair. And go see Jim." 

"That's where I'm headed," Blair replied, walking out of the office toward the secretary's desk. 

"I sort of figured that." The doctor smiled before returning to his office. 

* * *

Blair made a stop at Rainier long enough to find someone to cover his late afternoon class, and grateful his advisor wasn't in his office, he left a voicemail message that he was unable to make their appointment to discuss his latest chapter. He found a few cartons and packed up his personal effects, figuring that if he were gone a full semester, someone else might very likely be using his workspace. 

After loading the items in his car, he drove home to the loft. Jim would be home from work any time now, so he started working on a salad and selected a couple of steaks he'd start on the indoor grill as soon as Jim arrived home. 

"Honey, I'm home!" Jim called out jokingly as he came through the front door, brushing the snow off his shoulders. Blair made a beeline from the kitchen until he wrapped his arms around Jim's body and hung on tightly, ignoring the dampness of the snow-dusted coat his lover hadn't had time to remove yet. 

"I missed you today." 

"What's wrong, baby?" Jim asked, holding Blair tightly and kissing his hair. 

"I just had a bad day is all." 

"Something happen about the dissertation? Bad meeting with Burkhardt?" Jim referred to Blair's advisor. 

"No. I...I went to see Jack again." 

"Oh," Jim responded quietly, realizing now that Blair's "bad day" centered around the rape. 

"Jim, I need to tell you something. Please don't be mad at me, okay?" Blair pulled back and looked worriedly up at Jim. 

"Promise." Jim kept his arms loosely around Blair's waist. 

"I read your statement." 

"I know. Simon told me." 

"Oh man!" Blair moved away and started pacing. "I thought he'd keep his mouth shut." 

"He was concerned about you. He also said I should tell you not to worry about the wastebasket." Jim watched as Blair's expression softened a bit and he chuckled a little. 

"I threw up in his wastebasket." 

"The overpriced hand-carved thing? Man, if I thought he'd get rid of that piece of crap, I'd have thrown up in it last year sometime. That thing was butt ugly." Jim smirked until Blair smiled, and then laughed a little. "I'm not mad, Chief. You're going to hear it all in a matter of days anyway. I should have thought of it myself." 

"I should have asked you. I know I shouldn't have gone there and read it without telling you, but I had to be prepared for what I was going to hear in court." 

"All joking aside about Simon's wastebasket, if you were throwing up in it, you were pretty upset. I'm sorry about that, sweetheart." Jim dropped into the corner seat of the couch and let out an audible "oomph" as he was hit with a lapful of Blair. 

"You don't ever have to apologize to me for any of this. You know that, lover. Not one little tiny part of it was your fault." 

"Did Jack help you get a handle on things?" 

"A lot of things. We didn't talk much about the statement. I mean, I was upset, and that triggered it, but there was a lot of other stuff too. More stuff than I realized, I guess. He's going to write me a letter verifying that I need to take a leave of absence from Rainier. I'm fucking up my dissertation more every time I revise it, and I can't seem to focus on anything." 

"Aw, shit, Chief, I never wanted any of this to ruin your shot at your doctorate." 

"It's not going to ruin it if I handle it right. Besides, even if it all went up in smoke, it wouldn't be your fault. Jack seems to think there isn't going to be enough of me to go around emotionally and psychologically if I stick with it right now, and he's right." Blair slid down a little, making himself comfortable in Jim's arms, his head on the broad chest. Jim's heartbeat was reassuring beneath his ear. 

"I should have know that something like this would happen. You've put this situation ahead of everything else and now--" 

"And now I'm taking a few months off to get my head together and take care of my priorities. Don't beat yourself up about this, Jim. It isn't your fault. It's the best thing for me right now. I'm burned out academically at the moment, and I'm wrung out emotionally. I need a few hours to sit in the middle of the floor and sway to the aborigine CD, and I need some time to spend with you that isn't work or eating or sex--even though I love doing all those things with you. I'm tired. Jack's right. I need a break. There's one thing though," Blair added, straightening a little to look at Jim. 

"What?" 

"They'll probably let me resume my fellowship when I come back since I'll have documentation from a therapist that I need the time off--" 

"Blair, you tell them what you need to about this situation to get your leave with your reinstatement guaranteed. If you have to tell them about the rape, you do it, baby." 

"That means a lot to me, love. Thank you." Blair leaned forward and pressed his lips lightly against Jim's, and was sucked into a more prolonged dance of tongues with his lover. When he pulled back, he rested his head on Jim's shoulder. "I guess the big thing is...you're gonna have to support me for a few months. No stipend, no grant funds. I need to know if you're okay with that. I know my income is pretty secondary anyway right now, but still, I do pay some bills, and if it's going to be a burden--" 

"I would love to support you, baby. I'd take care of you for the rest of your life if you wanted me to. A few months is no problem." 

"Thank you for being mine," Blair murmured, more grateful for Jim's consistent and seemingly limitless love than he could express. 

"I hope you're going to keep going to see Jack while you're on leave." 

"I am. I guess I still need some help getting my head together about this." 

"We both do. I just can't find a lot more help from therapy anymore. But I know I have a long way to go yet." 

"Jack compared it to a tunnel. He said I could be the light at the end of it--" 

"But that I have to make it through the tunnel on my own? Yeah, he's mentioned that before. And he's right." 

"Where are you in the tunnel now?" 

"About three-fourths of the way to the end, I'd say. If I didn't know better, I'd think it was one of those near-death experiences, because there's an angel at the end of my tunnel." 

"I don't know if I qualify as an angel." 

"You're my angel, angel." Jim stroked the soft curls that rested just below his chin. "We're going to be okay, Blair. Don't you worry about anything. We'll make it through this." 

"I should be telling you that--" 

"Shhh. Hush. For once, let _me_ take care of _you_. Let _me_ tell _you_ that everything'll be all right. That things are going to get better. They will, baby. I promise you. We're in the home stretch." 

"I love you, mine." 

"I love you too, sweetheart. More than anything." 

Continued in part six.


	6. Chapter 6

Due to the length of this story, it's been split into nine parts for easier loading.

## The Secret Life of J.J. Rush

by Candy Apple

Continued from part five.

* * *

**THE SECRET LIFE OF J.J. RUSH - part six**

by 

Candy Apple 

Blair tried to concentrate on his breathing, on anything that would help him remain calm and collected while Jim gave his testimony regarding the rape. It flashed through Blair's mind how strikingly handsome Jim always looked in a suit and tie, and today was no exception. //But then he's just an impressively handsome man,// Blair thought affectionately, grateful for the momentary distraction from the long and painful stint Jim had to look forward to on the witness stand. 

Beverly Sanchez had handled everything up to now with as much tact and sensitivity as possible, and Blair figured she would do her best not to drag Jim through a knothole with her questions. The defense attorney for Mick Bernardi, however, was an entirely different story. He would be waiting for his chance to use the testimony of Sam Wilson, the fourth member of the team of thugs who claimed Jim was living out some kind of sick rape fantasy. His contention was that the only reason his three cohorts were going along with the prosecution's version was because they were willing to "sell out" for plea bargains. 

The testimony Jim gave was necessarily graphic, but Jim withstood it well. His jaw often twitched and he sometimes relied on gulping some of the water from the glass provided to him to delay an answer, but he delivered a very concise, stirring testimony. Three of the jurors cried during the most upsetting part of his account of the rape itself. The pain was evident in his face and his voice, but his strength served him well, and seemed to earn him the admiration of the jury, as well as the judge. He was not detached, it was not that he wasn't in immense emotional pain, but rather that he rose to the occasion with his usual stoicism. It was a job, a _duty_ to testify, and he did it well. 

The prosecution brought up Jim's relationship with Blair, knowing full well that the defense had that information and would lose no time in pointing out that Jim was in a same sex relationship at the time of his rape. So Jim had answered the questions calmly, explaining that they were in love, considered themselves a permanently married couple, and answered a few other tasteful questions asked by Beverly Sanchez in her role as prosecutor on the case. 

Still, by the end of the day, Jim was drained, withdrawn and only responded to Simon and Beverly with a couple of abrupt phrases as he took a hold of Blair's hand and headed out of the court room once court was adjourned for the day. He still had a full stint of cross-examination to look forward to the next day, and the safe haven of the loft was beckoning to him. 

As soon as the door closed behind them, Jim let out an audible sigh. 

"I'm going to get a fire going, sweetheart," he said tiredly, moving into the living room while removing the clip-on tie and tossing it on the back of the couch. 

"Feel like you could eat anything?" Blair asked, moving into the kitchen. 

"Not really. But you go ahead, Chief." Jim finished building the fire and then moved over to the couch, where he stared listlessly into the dancing flames. Blair made them some hot herbal tea, something he hoped might start relaxing Jim a bit. 

"Here. Maybe this'll help." Blair handed him the steaming mug and then sat down close to Jim as the other man's arm flopped around his shoulders. 

"This helps," Jim said quietly, squeezing Blair's shoulders. 

"When Simon and Beverly said you did great, they weren't just trying to make you feel better, man. You handled the whole thing so well. I'm beyond proud of you, Jim." 

"It feels so damned fragile...like I'm just barely getting through all this. I felt so _normal_ before the trial." 

"Revisiting this has got to be almost as painful as living through it." 

"It is." 

"Jim? You don't have to 'handle it' with me. If you need to lose it--scream, yell, throw something, cry, whatever--this is home. You're in safe territory." 

"If I ever did that...let it rip...I'd never put it all back together by tomorrow." Jim shook his head. "This was with the home team today." 

"I wish there was something I could do." 

"You're doing it. Just standing by me. Being in court every day. I know this isn't easy for you to hear. And I know it's taken a toll on your academic life." 

"My academic life will rise again, never fear," Blair responded, smiling a little. "Don't worry about me. This is about you." 

"But it's been hard on you." 

"And I'm seeing Jack O'Brien again to help me pull my head together. I'll be okay. As long as we're together, I can handle anything anybody throws at me." 

"I'm so fucking tired, Chief." Jim's head dropped back on the couch. "I want to move on with my life." 

"You're almost there, babe. Just hang in a little while longer." Blair set his tea aside. "Come on. How about a nice hot soak in the tub and then I'll fix you a little of that potato cheese soup you like." 

"You said you weren't going to make that anymore because it had too much fat in it." 

"It does, but this is an exception." Blair got up and leaned down to kiss Jim's lips quickly. "I'll fill the tub and you come in when you're ready." 

"Gonna join me?" Jim's voice couldn't quite make it to seductive. He was too tired to move himself around effectively, let alone seduce Blair. 

"Nope. I'm going to bathe you, and then you're going to relax in the tub for a while. I'll fix us some soup and then I'll come back in and roust you out of the tub." 

"Sounds like heaven," Jim responded honestly, dragging himself upstairs to shed his dress clothes in favor of his old gray robe. He grabbed some clean underwear and made his way back downstairs. 

The bathroom was lit with a few fat candles, the space heater had taken the January chill off the little room, and the tub was filled with warm, inviting water scented with something very faint and herbal. 

Blair accepted Jim's robe and waited while the other man lowered himself into the warm embrace of the water. Jim let out an audible sigh of relief, a little of the tension leaving his features. 

Blair made it a point not to speak. He lathered up a sponge and Jim leaned forward in unspoken understanding, letting his lover wash his back in slow, soothing strokes. Once his back was washed and rinsed, Blair grabbed the tub pillow that had rarely seen use since Carolyn's departure and put it under Jim's head. 

"Close your eyes," Blair whispered, as if he were breaking a vow of silence just to make that suggestion. Jim obeyed happily, giving himself over to the comforting sensations of Blair's gentle hands and the sponge lovingly bathing him and washing away the misery of the day. 

The next time Jim opened his eyes, it was because Blair was speaking softly to him, and he could smell something pleasant wafting in the air from the kitchen. 

"How long have I been out?" 

"Just about fifteen minutes. The soup'll be ready soon." Blair opened out a large, fluffy white bath towel, and Jim got out of the tub, smiling as the smaller man started carefully drying him. 

"This is really the star treatment, Chief," he said softly, lightly caressing the curl-covered head as Blair dried his legs and the lower portion of his body without so much as an inappropriate lingering in a sensitive area. 

"Just want you to relax, lover." Blair finished drying the long, perfectly sculpted body and then found a comb, just tidying up a few strands of hair that had escaped their proper places. Jim grabbed his boxers and stepped into them, and smiled when he found Blair holding his robe for him. 

Jim was stunned to have an appetite, but he ate the large bowl of soup and the warm rolls Blair had heated in the oven. His lover ate with him, but in relative silence, with their chairs close enough for their knees to touch. 

When they finished their meal, Blair cleaned up while Jim went upstairs and turned back the bed. It seemed early to turn in, and yet, he was exhausted. He knew it was more emotional than physical, but the thought of turning out the lights and shutting out everything but holding Blair's warm body in his arms was the only thing that was bringing him peace. 

Blair showered and came upstairs dressed in his bathrobe. 

"Would you like me to read to you for a while?" Blair asked his lover, who was already in bed, relaxed but not sleeping. 

"Yeah," Jim breathed, savoring the thought. Blair smiled and slipped out of his robe, climbing into bed naked. Propping himself up with the pillows behind his back, he brought the covers up around his shoulders to fend off the cold. He was surprised when Jim moved over and rested his head on Blair's chest, near his heart, the warmth of the large body attaching itself to his dispelling the chill in the bedroom. 

Blair smiled down at Jim, though the other man didn't see him. Jim's eyes were closed as he relaxed and let Blair's heartbeat set the pace of his own breathing. Letting one hand lightly stroke Jim's hair, Blair found his glasses on the night stand and grabbed the book they had been reading off and on for the last few months. Usually whichever of them was sleepiest would get in position to sleep while the other read, on those nights where what they most needed was rest and not more strenuous activities. 

Jim hadn't really followed the story too well, but it was a long, fairly placid story of a frontier family and their struggles. Jim found it boring enough to sleep by and interesting enough to pay marginal attention to when he was still conscious. Mainly, he drifted to the sound of Blair's heartbeat and breathing and his steady, smooth, soft voice as he read from the book. The arm that came around him ending in the hand that stroked his hair made him feel cherished. Within minutes, he slept. 

* * *

Jim was grateful for the wonderfully peaceful and restorative evening Blair had provided him with the night before as he faced the rigors of another day in court. Back on the witness stand, he prayed this would be his last time there. 

Now, the defense attorney for Mick Bernardi, an overpriced suit in $500 shoes, was circling the witness stand like a shark deciding which extremity to bite off first. 

The predictable questions were asked, the predictable insinuations made based on Wilson's contrived story of Jim "cruising the leather bars looking for action" and the whole "rape fantasy" story he had woven. Jim answered each one with a barely achieved restraint. Blair could see the fire in his lover's eyes, his desire to seize the grandstanding lawyer and snap his neck like a twig. However, he calmly refuted every lurid suggestion that he had a taste for rough sex that wasn't being satisfied in his current relationship, but was satisfied and cured by his encounter with Bernardi's men. Once it was obvious he was not going to get the answers from Jim he wanted regarding his sex life and sexual tastes, nor was he going to get the outburst he'd hoped for, he moved on to what he obviously considered more fertile ground. 

"Detective, when you were assigned to Vice, you worked on a number of, shall we say, difficult cases. Is that a fair assumption?" 

"Yes." 

"I have heard that it isn't uncommon for detectives in Vice to endure a number of extreme situations to make a bust. Is that true?" 

"In some cases, I suppose it is." 

"Have you ever been in such a situation?" 

"Consensually? No." Jim delivered the answer without moving his glare from the other man's eyes. 

"You don't condone rape." 

"That's a safe statement," Jim responded, shaking his head with a disgusted smirk on his face. 

"Have you ever broken the law to make a case?" 

"Yes," Jim answered honestly. The defense attorney's eyes gleamed like a large cat that had just spotted a particularly choice canary. 

"Only once?" 

"More than once." 

"Twice." 

"More than twice." 

"How long should I keep going here, Detective Ellison? Or should I ask, how many times have you made a case _without_ breaking the law to save the court's valuable time?" 

"Objection," Beverly interjected, rising. "The question is argumentative and counsel is badgering the witness." 

"Sustained. Ask your question and make your point, Mr. Fuller," the judge, an older man with receding white hair and a commanding presence, ordered the attorney. 

"Yes, your honor," the other attorney replied, then turned back to Jim. "How many times have you broken the law to make a case? Would 'several' be a safely vague number?" 

"Yes." 

"So several times in your career, you have broken the law to make a case?" 

"Yes. But you have to understand that--" 

"Just yes or no for now, please," the attorney corrected. 

"But it isn't a black and white answer with Vice," Jim shot back, determined to make his point. 

"So you have been involved in some, shall we say, shady situations under the guise of working Vice?" 

"Yes, because much of that work is undercover, and there are times when you have to do things to establish or stay in character--to save your life or the lives of others involved in the operation with you." 

"So you've broken the law to stay in character?" 

"Yes." 

"But you deny that you engaged in a little rough sex to stay in character on this assignment?" 

Blair waited for Beverly's objection, and when none was forthcoming, he stood up without giving it a second thought. 

"You son of a bitch! How dare you!" Before Blair could move away from his seat, which he clearly intended to do, Simon held him back by the arm with one large hand. 

"Order in the court!" The judge brought the gavel down once. "Mr. Sandburg, if you ever interrupt these proceedings in that manner again, I'll not only have you removed and barred from this court room, but you will be on your way to the county lock-up on contempt charges. Is that clear?" 

"If the prosecution doesn't know enough to object, someone has to," Blair shot back, and Simon just rolled his eyes, fully expecting Blair to be hauled away in hand cuffs. Oddly enough, the judge shot a sideways glance at Beverly, almost as if he shared Blair's opinion. He quickly returned his angry glare to the defiant young man who hadn't been dissuaded from defending his lover's honor, even in the face of the judge's wrath. 

"Mr. Sandburg, this is your last warning. I realize this is an emotional situation, and that's the only reason you aren't on your way to jail. Now sit down and restrain yourself. I'm going to ask you again, do I make myself clear?" The judge waited while Blair looked over at Jim first, who just nodded tightly toward his lover, giving him an expression that said he was okay. 

"Yes, your honor. I apologize for the outburst. It won't happen again." 

"See that it doesn't. Mr. Fuller, if you're going somewhere with this line of questioning, I strongly suggest you get there soon. You're trying the court's patience." 

"Of course, your honor." The reptile in the silk suit turned back to face Jim. "When you worked in Vice, did you participate in the undercover operation which led to the arrest of Mitchell Pratt?" 

"Yes," Jim responded, the color seeming to drain out of his face. 

"What 'role' did you play for that assignment?" 

"I was one of Pratt's bodyguards." 

"Would it be a fair statement that you were part of the 'hired muscle'?" 

"Yes." 

"During that case, a man was killed. A man by the name of Carl Schumacher. Do you remember him?" 

"Yes." 

"Would you please explain to the court who Mr. Schumacher was?" 

"Objection your honor--relevance," Beverly rose from her chair. 

"Your honor, if it pleases the court, I would like to explore this line of questioning for just a moment longer. The Pratt case may shed some light as to the character of the witness, which is a vital issue in the case against Mr. Bernardi." 

"Proceed, but get to the point quickly." 

"Thank you. Should I repeat the question, detective?" 

"No," Jim replied, his voice oddly soft. "Carl Schumacher was a small time drug dealer who worked the streets for Mitch Pratt." 

"During your tenure as Mr. Pratt's 'bodyguard', Mr. Schumacher fell out of favor with Mr. Pratt for withholding part of the money he took in from his 'transactions'--is that correct?" 

"Yes." 

"What did Mr. Pratt ask you to do?" 

"He ordered Tony Franklin and me to teach Schumacher a lesson." 

"Tony Franklin was...?" 

"One of Pratt's real bodyguards--not a cop." 

"So what did the two of you do, functioning as hired muscle for Mitchell Pratt?" 

"We took Schumacher to the dump and roughed him up." 

"You 'roughed him up'." 

"That's what I said," Jim retorted, annoyed. 

"I have here the medical examiner's records on Mr. Schumacher." The attorney strolled to his table and picked up a manilla folder, flipping open the cover and reading from it. "Broken nose, broken jaw, six broken ribs, loss of an eye, multiple contusions and various other fractures I won't waste the court's time in listing. The victim was dead on arrival at the hospital after being found in the dump by the owner the next morning. This is your definition of 'roughing up'?" 

"I wasn't alone. The punches I threw I gauged to cause minimal damage." 

"But you participated in beating this man until most of the bones in his body were either broken or fractured and he lost the sight in one eye, is that correct?" 

"I didn't have a choice." 

"Oh really?" 

"I was in deep cover. I had been in Pratt's organization for almost a year. It was my testimony that brought him down on first degree murder charges. He's on death row as we speak." 

"But to maintain a cover, you would brutally beat another person--so brutally that he ultimately died of his injuries?" 

"I didn't brutally beat him. I threw a few punches. Tony went ballistic, did the major damage. If you read the trial transcripts, he admitted that much himself." 

"But you watched." 

"Yes. I was very close to bringing Pratt down for the murder of a young woman--" 

"Yes or no answers, please, detective." Fuller looked back at his file. "And the bizarre assortment of rectal injuries listed on Schumacher's autopsy report--what were those?" 

"Tony sodomized him with something," Jim answered quietly, reaching for his water and taking a long drink. He set the glass back down with a shaking hand. His eyes found Blair, and the younger man held his gaze and mouthed an "It's okay, lover," that Jim could swear he heard with his enhanced hearing. 

"Did you watch that too?" 

"No." 

"The beating was finished?" 

"Yes." 

"Was Schumacher conscious at this point?" 

"I'm not sure. I thought it was over--" 

"Please just answer the question, Detective Ellison. What were you doing while Tony Franklin violently sodomized a severely injured man the two of you had just finished beating?" 

"I went back to the van." 

"You had used that to transport the victim?" 

"Yes." 

"What did you do there?" 

"I had a beer." 

"You had a beer. While Tony Franklin raped Carl Schumacher with what turned out to be a rusty piece of pipe, you went back to the van and had a beer." 

"Objection. Asked and answered," Beverly stated. 

"Sustained." The judge acknowledged the validity of the objection, but seemed as enraptured by the testimony as the jury. 

"You participated in a brutal assault and then turned your head and ignored a ruthless sexual assault to maintain your cover. Is that correct?" 

"Yes," Jim replied, still staring at Blair, wondering if his lover would ever feel the same way about him again. The only thing that kept him calm and in his chair was that Blair covered his heart with his closed fist and mouthed "I love you" after this last, horrible revelation. 

"This is the reason you were transferred out of Vice, is that correct?" 

"I requested that transfer. I didn't want to--" 

"So we've established what you have been willing to do in the past to maintain your cover. You've not only broken the law, but you participated in felonious behavior of a very brutal nature. I have heard that you are considered one of the most effective undercover Vice detectives the Cascade Police Department has ever seen. Would that be a fair statement?" 

"I had a good record in Vice." 

"Having a good record in Vice as an undercover cop requires you to be very good at role-playing, doesn't it?" 

"I suppose." 

"How many different 'roles' have you played?" 

"I'm not sure." 

"More than five?" 

"Yes." 

"More than ten?" 

"Yes." 

"More than twenty?" 

"Probably." 

"So acting is a talent you've had to hone for this job--is that a safe statement?" 

"Yes." 

"Then I only have one remaining question for you, Detective Ellison. Why should this jury take to heart the testimony of a man who has broken the law numerous times to get the results he wants, who has participated in and condoned ruthless violence in the name of maintaining his cover, and who is a master at role-playing, who, by his own admission, has assumed the 'personalities' of upwards of twenty different people? If you would participate in the ruthless assault of a helpless victim to get the conviction you wanted, is there any reason for this jury to believe that you would be opposed to a little perjury to make this case go your way? Couldn't we assume then you could manufacture a little quiver in your voice if necessary when playing the role of the victim?" 

Blair's outburst and Beverly's objection came almost simultaneously, though Blair was already out of his seat before the attorney finished his final question. Their words mingled until no one was sure who said what, but Simon was dragging Blair back by both arms, forcibly shoving him back down in his chair, the judge was banging his gavel and Beverly was arguing her objection all at once. Finally, order was restored and the prosecutor stated her objection. The judge didn't bother with Blair this time around, since it was obvious that Simon had effectively restrained him and silenced him before he had time to make much of a scene. 

"Mr. Fuller's tone is argumentative and accusatory. He is making a speech, not attempting to obtain any factual information relevant to this case." 

"Your honor, Detective Ellison's character is paramount in this case. Therefore, it is more than relevant if the witness is willing to commit a felony in order to maintain his cover and has a career background which required him to become a professional liar. However, I will withdraw the question. I have nothing further." 

"Ms. Sanchez, do you wish to re-direct?" 

"Yes, your honor." Beverly walked around the front of her table and approached the witness stand. "Detective Ellison, was there an Internal Affairs investigation of Mr. Schumacher's death?" 

"Yes." 

"What was the outcome of that investigation?" 

"The review board supported my handling of the situation. There was no departmental reprimand and I wasn't charged with anything relating to his death." 

"What was your purpose in bending all efforts to maintain your cover?" 

"Mitch Pratt murdered a 22-year-old college student who was also the mother of a 3-year-old child, simply because she witnessed a drug deal going down between a couple of his high-ranking dealers. We all knew he was behind it, but we had no evidence. So my job was to get the evidence by going into deep cover, and by getting as close as I could to Pratt. Which I did." 

"And he was convicted of her murder?" 

"Yes, and so were the two men who carried it out." 

"Could you have effectively intervened on Carl Schumacher's behalf?" 

"Effectively? No. The result would have been that I would have blown my cover, probably been killed, Schumacher would have gotten what he got anyway, and the case against Mitch Pratt would have gone down the toilet after a year of undercover work by not only myself but an entire task force that was supporting me back at the PD." 

"When you said you went back to the van and had a beer, what was your frame of mind?" 

"I was upset. I was on the edge of blowing my cover, and I had to get my head together before I got myself and a couple other cops killed. And I couldn't watch whatever Tony was going to do--and I knew I couldn't stop it without killing Tony, and blowing the operation." 

"Others were undercover at the same time?" 

"There was a policewoman under as one of the prostitutes and another detective working in the stockroom of one of Pratt's bars. If my cover was blown, there was always the risk of theirs being blown too--especially since the policewoman had been brought in undercover as my best girl from my stint as a pimp in LA." 

"Why did you request a transfer out of Vice, if there was no reprimand--if anything you were commended for bringing that case to trial." 

"Because what happened with Carl Schumacher was probably the most repulsive thing I had been forced to be part of, and I didn't have the stomach for it anymore." 

"So you took a demotion and cut in pay to move to Major Crimes?" 

"Yes." 

"At the time you left Vice, isn't it true that there were better opportunities for advancement there for you than there are in your current department?" 

"Yes." 

"So it would be safe to say you left Vice for moral reasons?" 

"Yes." 

"And what made you put your life at risk to go undercover for the case against Mr. Bernardi?" 

"I was the only one qualified at the time--given that J.J. Rush was a motorcycle enthusiast, and about my age. And this was a once in a lifetime 'in'--the best chance to nail Bernardi for the murder of Annette Simmons," Jim concluded, mentioning the sixteen-year-old runaway girl whose death had really prompted him to take the case. 

"Detective Ellison, was there anything remotely consensual about your sexual assault?" 

"Nothing," Jim replied firmly, looking her in the eyes. 

"Did you ever indicate to Sam Wilson or any of your assailants that you had a taste for rough sex or S &M, or that you had fantasies of being gang-raped?" 

"Never, because I don't." 

"Thank you very much, Detective. I have no further questions." Beverly gave him a little smile and returned to her seat. 

"The witness may step down," the judge instructed. Jim gratefully left the witness stand and headed back for his seat. As soon as he sat down, he found Blair's hand. Blair enveloped the larger hand in both of his, holding it tightly. Within a few moments, court was adjourned for the day. 

As they stood to leave, Fuller passed by Jim and Blair, and if Jim hadn't had flawless reflexes, Blair would have had his hands around the throat of the defense attorney. The man paused to look back at them as Jim caught Blair around the waist and pulled him back from his intended lunge. 

"You really should teach your boyfriend a little self control, Detective." Fuller gave Blair a decidedly lewd and demeaning head-to-toe sweep with his eyes. "I don't think he'd last long down at the county lock-up." 

That was enough for Jim, and with a shove that sent Blair back into a nearby chair, Jim charged on the attorney himself. With the man's expensive suit ruthlessly grasped in two strong hands, Jim pushed the man against the wall and leaned within a few centimeters of his face. 

"You do what you want, say what you want to me. But don't make the mistake of messing with Sandburg. Do I make myself clear?" 

"Jim, this isn't worth it," Simon said calmly from behind his favorite detective. "Come on, man, let him go. You've done enough damage--he'll probably have to get those fancy threads pressed at the dry cleaners because of this," Simon sneered, taking a hold of Jim's arm. 

"Mark my words, Fuller--" 

"Jim, can it and let the creep go. He's a waste of energy." Jim seemed to respond to that, releasing his hold on the other man with a contemptuous glare. 

"Don't you make the mistake of assaulting me again, Detective Ellison. I _will_ press charges the next time." Smoothing out his suit and picking up his briefcase, the attorney strode out the doors of the court room. 

"Why didn't you let _me_ go after him?" Blair joined the other two men where they stood. 

"Neither one of you are going after anyone, is that clear?" Simon shot back angrily. "Jim, I can sympathize why you'd like to rip that bastard's head off, but you can't do it and you know it. As for you, Sugar Ray Sandburg, you either sit tight and button your lip or I'll put you in a cell myself every morning before court is in session--is that clear enough?" 

"Crystal," Blair shot back with a defiant glare. 

"Sandburg, don't give me attitude. I'm serious about this." 

"I won't jump up and call Fuller a motherfucking prick and threaten to cut his balls off anymore, okay?" Blair was shoving his arms angrily into his coat. 

"Is that what you said?" Simon's eyes bulged and Jim's jaw twitched a little, just before he couldn't fight the beginnings of a grin. "Thank God Beverly and the judge's gavel drowned you out." 

"Come on, Chief. Let's get out of here. See you tomorrow, Simon." 

"Yeah, same place, same channel," he replied, lackluster as he watched the two men leave the court room. Partway down the hall, Blair reached into Jim's coat pocket and found the hand there. The two men walked hand in hand to the elevator, uncaring who might see them, stepped inside and disappeared behind closed doors. 

Simon shrugged into his own coat and headed out of the court room, annoyed with Jim and Blair's behavior and yet somewhat in awe at the power of their love. Simon would have never laid money on them as a winning couple, but he had yet to see a love that steady and unwavering and indestructible at any other time in his life. 

* * *

"I'm sorry about the way I acted in there today," Blair said quietly as Jim maneuvered the truck away from the curb and into traffic. "I just couldn't sit still and listen to that asshole insult you that way." 

"It's okay, baby." Jim took a hold of Blair's hand where it rested on the seat. "It was kind of nice having someone defending my honor," he concluded, smiling a little. "Can't say as I remember that happening before I ran into you." 

"Probably because most people don't know you well enough to know that sometimes you need defending too." Blair raised Jim's hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. "Everybody does." 

"I wonder when it's going to happen," Jim said absently, more to himself than to Blair. 

"What, love?" 

"When are you going to hear the one thing about my past you can't handle?" Jim asked the question of the windshield and the oncoming traffic, still holding onto Blair's hand but unable to risk a glance his way. 

"At the risk of quoting an old song here, man, 'never, my love'." Blair stroked the back of the hand he held with the fingertips of his free hand. "I know Covert Ops isn't the Boy Scouts, and I know Vice doesn't really play by the same rules as the other departments--they can't, for all the reasons you cited in court today. I'm not kidding myself that you've never been in a less that ideal situation." 

"That's a damned benevolent way to assess what happened to Schumacher." 

"You couldn't save him. Even if you'd given your life for the cause, when Tony Franklin was done offing you, he'd have hunted Schumacher down and finished the job on him. You couldn't prevent it. Besides, you didn't think he was going to die, did you?" 

"No. Not at first. Our orders weren't to kill him. Tony almost got me thrown out of my 'bodyguard' job because what was supposed to be a beating turned into a rape and murder. Fortunately, Pratt was bloodthirsty enough to sputter about it but then ultimately laugh it off and ask for details. His biggest concern was that we hid the body well." 

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?" 

"If you mean deep, dark confessions from my past, I know there are plenty of things I _should_ tell you. But no, I don't want to." 

"Have you ever murdered anyone for pleasure?" 

"Of course not," Jim shot back angrily. 

"Have you ever raped someone just for fun?" 

"Shit, Sandburg, you know how to ask questions. Hell no." Jim was about to pull his hand away, but Blair's grip was too tenacious. 

"Tortured anybody just because you liked to?" 

"Oh, man. I don't believe this. No, of course I haven't." 

"Then there's nothing you can tell me about your past--and nothing I can find out--that would change how I feel about you. And even one of those things...I could probably get over because I don't believe you're the same man now that you were then. One thing I do think is the same--you have principles, morals-- _honor_ \--and that's one big reason, aside from the fact that I love you with all my heart and soul, that I can't stand listening to someone bash your character. You have honor that's well worth defending, lover. Don't be afraid of your past. It doesn't have any power over us." 

Jim didn't say anything, but Blair could see the tell-tale workings of the strong jaw as the other man navigated the truck toward the loft, and finally pulled into a parking place. He turned off the engine and almost in the same move with removing his seatbelt, pounced on Blair, claiming his mouth in a breath-stealing kiss that lasted until Blair finally had to pull back, gasping. 

"Jim, lover, we're forever. I love you more than my life, and that's unconditional. I couldn't stop loving you even if I wanted to--and I don't want to. Not ever." 

"Oh, sweetheart, I don't deserve you," Jim responded, pulling Blair tightly into his arms. 

"Probably not, but you're stuck with me anyway." 

"Blair, I...I think maybe..." Jim let his voice trail off, looking away uncertainly. Blair guided his chin back until they were looking into each other's eyes. 

"What, lover? Tell me." 

"Maybe...I don't know if I'm...if I can...but..." 

"Relax, babe. I love you." Blair punctuated the declaration with a soft kiss to Jim's lips. "Whatever it is, lover, just tell me." 

"Tonight...I-I think I'd like to try...uh, letting you drive," Jim shot out, falling back on one of their familiar euphemisms for who would be on top in bed. 

"Don't be afraid of me, Jim. I won't hurt you. And most importantly, we can stop anytime it doesn't feel right, or if you change your mind. And I promise I won't psychoanalyze you to death if you decide you aren't ready. We'll just leave it and wait until it feels right." 

"I trust you," Jim responded, moving back in for another prolonged kiss. 

"Let's go inside, huh?" 

"Yeah, before we get busted for lewd and lascivious behavior. Wouldn't Fuller love that?" Jim laughed a little as they got out of the truck, and walked around to join Blair, walking hand in hand to the front door. 

"Forget Fuller. Another day or two and we never have to see the fucking reptile again." 

"I'm just glad to be off the hot seat for a while." Jim unlocked the door and led the way to the elevator. As soon as it was in motion, Blair moved closer and they made full use of the short ride, still melded together in a deep kiss when the door opened on their floor. Both considered it a gross imposition to part lips long enough to make it to their apartment. 

By unspoken agreement, they tossed their coats wherever they wanted to land and headed for the bathroom for a shared shower. Kissing, caressing and soaping each other, they stayed in the shower until the water ran cold, washing off the traces of their first shared climax of the evening. 

After they dried each other and donned their robes, Jim slowly and deliberately tended to Blair's unruly curls, taking all the pains to do everything just right. After nearly two years of marriage and intimacy, he was almost as proficient at the task as Blair was himself. 

"What do you say we take some wine and finger food upstairs?" Blair suggested as Jim finished his ministrations on the younger man's hair. 

"I suppose we need our energy for the long haul, huh, Chief?" Jim kissed the soft hair he'd just finished drying. 

"Something like that," Blair replied, grinning at their reflections in the mirror. Jim wound his arms around Blair from behind and brought their faces next to each other. 

"Kind of looks like a perfect set, doesn't it?" Jim quipped, kissing Blair's cheek. 

"Kind of looks like forever to me," Blair responded, reaching up behind him to caress Jim's face. "I wish I could make time stand still. So we'd never have to lose our time." 

"We're timeless, remember?" Jim kissed his lover again, squeezing him tightly. 

"Yeah, I guess we are," Blair replied, smiling back at the two faces in the glass. 

"You're beautiful, you know that? Angels should have such faces." Jim smiled as Blair turned a deep shade of red. "Don't be embarrassed, baby. You know I think you're perfect." 

"Far from it," Blair said, laughing a little. 

"Not so far from it as far as I'm concerned, sweetheart. I'm so glad to have you." Jim buried his nose in the soft curls and closed his eyes. "I love you." 

"I love you, mine." Blair felt Jim smile. 

"Guess we should move this party upstairs," Jim said close to Blair's ear. 

"I guess we should." 

Together they gathered up a small repast. Blair quickly diced up some cheese and a couple of apples, putting each food in a separate dish on a tray they would take upstairs. Jim retrieved a chilled bottle of white wine from the refrigerator and a couple of fresh bagels they hadn't had time to eat that morning before racing off to the courthouse. 

With the lights turned off downstairs, Jim carried the tray up to the bedroom while Blair gathered a few candles, which he placed on the dresser and lit. Jim found a favorite CD of soft piano instrumentals and put it in the player. 

Amidst the soft music and the dancing candle light, they sat on the bed and shared the food, feeding each other and mixing the flavors with prolonged kisses. When both seemed to lose interest in the fruit and cheese, Jim set the tray on the floor and moved into Blair's arms, both men stretching out on the bed to bring their bodies into full contact. 

Within moments, Jim had divested Blair of his robe, and the younger man was working diligently to return the favor. Finally skin to skin, hands roamed over heated bodies with the fervor of two lovers who hadn't made love in years. 

Blair's talented mouth excited Jim's nipples to hardness before trailing wet kisses down the center of his chest. Finally surrendering and flopping on his back under the sweet barrage, Jim relaxed into the mattress and enjoyed the mounting arousal brought on by his lover's mouth. 

Swirling his tongue in the little valley of Jim's navel, Blair ran his hands slowly up Jim's sides, softly enough to be loving but firmly enough not to tickle. He moved lower, his tongue exploring all the secret places on Jim's body that were his sacred territory. He vowed silently that no one else would ever touch that territory again. 

Jim's legs spread for Blair almost on their own, Jim's little grunts of pleasure music to the younger man's ears. He was blatantly ignoring the rigid shaft his lover presented, moving lips and tongue down to the tender skin of Jim's perineum. Jim shifted his hips upward, opening himself, and Blair took the invitation eagerly. 

He hadn't tasted Jim this way since their last night together before the undercover operation. Jim hadn't exposed himself to his lover in this manner since the rape, and Blair had never pushed the issue, figuring that Jim's center was off limits without a very clear invitation. 

He dragged his tongue in a couple of long laps over the tender skin just above the little pucker, then brought it down to tentatively lick over the small opening. He was rewarded with a broken little groan from above him. Inspired by Jim's reaction, he began licking in earnest, building Jim's pleasure and hopefully his confidence before attempting even the slightest penetration with just his tongue. 

When he was convinced Jim was enjoying himself, Blair carefully darted his tongue into the little hole, past the rim of muscle there. Jim let out a long, low groan, but the thrust of his hips indicated that it was a good sign. 

Encouraged by the expression of pleasure, Blair set about making love to Jim with his tongue, licking, bathing and stretching the puckered opening until the larger man let out a groan of ecstasy and thrust down again, trying to impale himself further on the elusive but thorough tongue. 

His own arousal beginning to make him uncomfortable, Blair questioned whether or not he should climb on top of his lover and work at bringing them both to a climax so they could slow things down a little. He eschewed that idea because he feared that maintaining an erection might be a challenge for Jim when he was as nervous as he no doubt would be, and the whole thing would probably feel better if he was seeking release and could climax _with_ Blair instead of having to work his way up to it again, or just try to relax and take it. 

Blair reached over his over to the nightstand and found the lube. It wouldn't have taken a sentinel to catch the nervous shift of Jim's body when he saw what Blair was doing. 

"Relax, babe. I won't hurt you," Blair said softly, moving up to plant a little kiss over Jim's heart. The larger man was still breathing heavily, still very much aroused, but understandably afraid. "Anytime you don't like the feeling of something, you say 'stop', and it stops. I don't care how far we've gone, okay?" Blair waited while Jim nodded. "No pressure, love. We just want to feel good together, and we can do that a lot of ways. We'll just pick another one if we aren't both enjoying ourselves this way, okay?" Blair asked, running a soothing hand in a little circle around Jim's stomach. Jim nodded again, seeming to relax a bit at the spoken reassurance. 

Blair spread some of the gel on his finger and wondered for a moment which one of them was more nervous. He knew if he did anything that frightened or hurt Jim in any way, he'd want to cut off whatever part of his body caused the pain. Jim's recovery was a hard-won battle, and it was a tenuous victory. Knowing he could shatter it with the wrong move was sobering enough to cool Blair's own arousal sufficiently to take it slowly. 

He carefully probed Jim's anus with the tip of his finger, and feeling no adverse reactions, eased it in past the tight ring of muscle. Jim still didn't react, and Blair wasn't sure if that was a positive or negative sign. He cautiously moved his fingertip a bit, and was startled with the tight warmth around it suddenly disappeared. Looking up, he saw Jim had pulled himself up and back until he was sitting against the railing. 

"I can't do this," he stated quietly, letting his previously spread legs come back together as Blair moved out of the way. "Shit, Chief, I can't do this." Blair's heart shattered as he watched sobs begin to wrack the strong, sculpted body of his other half. He scrambled up to be at Jim's side, kneeling beside him and holding the other man's head close to his heart. 

"Shhh. It's okay. I love you, mine. It's okay." 

"No, it's not okay!" Jim shouted through tears that refused to be contained. "What the hell's wrong with me?" 

"Nothing's wrong with _you_ , love. Our timing's just off." 

"Our 'timing' has been off ever since...ever since it happened." 

"It hasn't even been a year, babe. It's not that long. You needed time to heal physically, and we both need time to heal emotionally from all of this. Just relax and let it out, love. You'll feel better." Blair closed his eyes and rested his head against Jim's, tears seeping out from under his closed lids as Jim sobbed in his arms. Blair reached for the edge of the comforter and pulled it up around them, patting Jim's back lightly and starting a slight rocking motion. 

"If you had made me...wait this long...I'd be crazy by now," Jim barely managed. 

"You'd be patient, you'd be loving, and you'd be gentle. You might take a couple extra cold showers, but you'd wait for me. And I'll wait for you. Jim--we haven't exactly abstained all these months. We've been making love, and it's been feeling great, no matter how we do it. This is just _one activity_. Man, you have done _so_ well coming back from this whole thing. Don't beat yourself up because there's one more painful obstacle we need to overcome." 

"This whole...relationship is one-sided. I take you but I won't let you take me, I lean on you, and I've ruined your fellowship and fucked up your dissertation and I just keep taking from you--" 

"Jim, stop right there," Blair responded, his tone firm. "Number one, there is nothing even remotely one-sided about our relationship. You're my anchor, my center, my life--you're my best friend, my lover, my life partner, my safety net, my protector--so many things that I can't even name them all. Yes, you lean on me and I treasure that because you don't let everyone in. Your trust, your willingness to share your pain with me--that touches me in a way you'll probably never fully know. As for my fellowship, it isn't ruined at all. Jack wrote a letter to the chair of my committee, and they're granting me a leave of absence. I'll be able to go back in the Fall and pick up where I left off. As far as my dissertation being fucked up, that's not your fault either. You aren't writing it. I am. Nobody gets the blame for messing it up but me, and I don't even really blame myself. A lot's been happening--things that are more important to me, and I've been screwed up pretty badly--" 

"Because of me," Jim responded, still not moving from the haven of Blair's arms. 

"No. Because of Bernardi, yes, because of the goons that hurt you, yes. But never, not ever, because of you. You're the only reason I'm able to get by. If anything had happened to you--if you hadn't come back to me, I...I wouldn't have survived." 

"Sure you would. You would--" 

"Have slowly wasted away until there was nothing left and my whole life was nothing but a shambles. Jim, you saw me when you got back. I couldn't eat, I rarely slept. Every time I heard a love song on the radio, I cried. I was so miserable I wanted to die and the only reason I didn't is because I thought you'd be coming home to me. And you did." 

"Blair, if I weren't here, fucking up everything you're trying to do, you'd probably have your Ph.D. by now." 

"Don't you ever dare say a thing like that again, Ellison. I mean it. Not after what I went through without you. I never want to feel that way again." Blair felt the tears run down his cheeks and fall into Jim's hair. "I can't make love to a piece of paper. If I never got my doctorate--and I will--but if I never got it, and it was somehow because you were in my life, I would give it up in a heartbeat and never look back." 

"You can't mean that." 

Blair gently encouraged Jim to straighten and look him in the eyes, a hand on either side of the damp face. He took a moment to kiss away a few tears. 

"Jim, you are the greatest gift I could ever receive. I thank whatever deity did this for me every day of my life. You want to know why I'm so thankful for your heightened senses? Not because it proves some kind of theory--which yes, it was kind of cool to know I was right all along--but that's not it. I'm thankful because they brought _you_ to me. Not because they brought me a _sentinel_ , but because they brought Jim Ellison into my life. Do you hear what I'm saying to you?" 

"Yeah," Jim said gruffly, nodding a little and taking a hold of Blair's wrists, moving the younger man's hands away from his face and kissing them both, then holding them inside his own larger hands. "I just don't know how you can keep loving me. I'm a fucking mess, Chief." 

"We're working through one of the worst things that could happen to two people who love each other. We're making progress. I'm a mess too, if you want to define it that way. I'm still in therapy, I can't handle my professional commitments. We've both got more problems than we had before, but we're struggling through it together. And we'll make it. There's no deadline for when I have to top again, Jim. If it never happens, I'll still love you just as much as I do now. We can still have a healthy, fulfilling sex life. But I believe, when the time is truly right for both of us, it'll feel good, and we'll take that step." 

"You were ready tonight." 

"I'm ready when you're ready. Not a moment before. I'd die before I'd hurt you in any way, but most of all, in that way." 

"I did one smart thing in my life, sweetheart." Jim leaned forward and kissed Blair's lips softly. "I married you." 

"And that's forever, remember?" 

"Timeless." 

"You got it." Blair smiled as Jim moved a few pillows around to prop himself up and pulled Blair into his arms. 

"I'm sorry about tonight." 

"No apologies, lover. We're together, cuddled up, in bed, naked--that doesn't sound like a night to apologize for." Blair grinned as he heard the rumble of Jim's laughter under his head. 

"Are you okay? I mean you were all ready and I just sort of...left you--well, hanging isn't the right word I guess." 

"Sporting the boner from hell?" 

"That would work," Jim replied, laughing. 

"Don't worry about it. It fizzled. I'm saving it for later." 

"Later, huh?" 

"Yeah, when we both feel more like it and we can hump until we start a forest fire. But this feels good for now. Wanna watch TV?" 

"TV? I just took you to the edge and left you stranded and you want to watch TV?" 

"Yeah. Your point being...?" 

"You can pick the program." Jim found the remote and turned on the set. 

"Oh, sure, tell me that when I don't have a TV Guide handy." 

"I'll flip channels, you yell when you see what you like." 

"I already see that but it ain't on the TV screen." 

"Nymphomaniac." Jim kissed Blair's hair. 

"Takes one to know one," he quipped back, kissing Jim's chest. The images flashed on the screen as Jim channel-surfed. "OOH--right there!" Blair straightened up a little at the sight of the old black and white picture, credits in white letters that looked like they were melting. 

" _The Munsters_?" Jim asked, incredulous. 

"I _loved_ this show when I was little. I watched re-runs all the time!" 

"So did I--well, I watched the _first run_." Jim rolled his eyes and Blair laughed a little. 

Snuggled under the comforter, with glasses of wine Jim filled for them, the two lovers settled in for what turned out to be an evening of sitcom re-runs and lazy kisses, interrupted only by the occasional trip to the bathroom or a supply run to replenish the food. Blair dozed off first, cuddled in Jim's arms, and a few minutes after midnight, Jim slid them both down in the bed a bit and joined his lover in sleep. 

* * *

Jim and Blair listened, dumbfounded, as Beverly Sanchez happily reported to the judge that there had been a major development in the case, and that Sam Wilson had recanted his earlier statements and was changing his plea to guilty. In other words, the last of Jim's assailants was now admitting the truth. 

This was an understandable blow to the defense, as Bernardi's mouthpiece did his best to have the new development in the case ruled inadmissable because of it's late introduction, complete with accusations that the prosecution had sat on this new development until the defense could not realistically deal with it. Numerous arguments flew back and forth, finally resulting the judge ordering that Sam Wilson appear before the court instead of just his deposition, and give testimony as to the course of events on the day and evening Jim was abducted and held prisoner in the warehouse. 

The new witness was brought over from the county jail later that afternoon to give his testimony. Sam Wilson's entrance into the court room marked the first time Jim had been in the same room, face to face, with one of the men who participated in the actual physical act of assaulting him. Mick Bernardi had been present, but he hadn't participated. Every one of Jim's senses screamed that Wilson was the man who had done him the worst damage, taking over when one of the others gave up on using Mick's flashlight. 

The sound, sight, scent and heartbeat of the man who had attacked him so brutally and sadistically smothered Jim. He pulled at the collar of his dress shirt, the sweat popping out in visible beads on his forehead. Blair leaned over and said something soft and comforting, but Jim didn't hear him. Everything was focusing in on Wilson, and the memories his presence brought back with alarming clarity. 

The man on the witness stand hadn't opened his mouth to answer the first question when Jim bolted out of his seat and rushed down the aisle and out the door of the court room. Blair was close behind him. 

Jim barely made it to the first stall inside the door of the men's room before losing the contents of his stomach into the john. He heard Blair's approach, but all he could do now was try to pull himself back from what was a terrifying journey back to the most painful and degrading moment of his life. 

"Jim?" Blair was behind him, a hand on his back, another handing him a paper towel in case he needed to wipe his face, which he did. Standing up unsteadily, he pulled Blair into a fierce embrace. "It's okay, love. I'm right here," Blair said soothingly, rubbing up and down Jim's back in gentle strokes. "Brings it all back, huh?" 

"Oh, shit, Chief, I thought I had a handle on this." Jim squeezed his eyes shut against visions that followed him to play out against his closed lids. He knew he was probably bruising Blair by the sheer force of his hold, but he couldn't stop it. He needed so desperately to flood his senses with Blair's scent, his sounds, the feeling of his body...anything to block out the sensory memory of Sam Wilson or the piercing pain that was associated with it. 

"It was a shock, babe. That's all. You haven't been in the same room with any of them since it happened. It caught you off base." 

"I don't want to do this," Jim managed as he choked on tears that wouldn't be held back anymore. 

"It's okay, just let it out. I love you, mine. It's almost over. I promise it won't be much longer we have to go through this crap with the trial. You'll see." 

"I can't face him." 

"I know. It's okay, lover. You don't have to. Just let it out, love. I locked the door. We've got some privacy." Blair didn't expect such a complete response to his directive. Jim's knees seemed to give out on him, and unable to hold the larger man up successfully, Blair lowered them both to their knees on the floor, never losing his hold on Jim. "That's it, love. Let go. Give me the pain so I can help you carry it, huh? That's it." 

"It's still...so...vivid," Jim explained brokenly. 

"I know, love. I know. It's okay to be scared. You're not alone. I won't let anything happen to you." Blair knew the promise was a little absurd, and Jim did too, but it was comforting nonetheless. Blair stroked Jim's hair gently. "Shhh. I'm right here, love. Everything's going to be okay." 

"I want...to see him...dead." 

"I know. I do too. All of them. And Bernardi. And I want to do it myself with my bare hands." Blair fought hard to resist his own tears. "I want to see them experience the kind of pain and fear they made you face. But when this is all over, they'll be in prison and we'll have our lives back." 

"What kind of a life? I can't even...I'm not even normal in bed anymore." 

"No, you're not. You're extraordinary in bed. We've had some wonderful lovemaking between us in the last several months. We're going to be okay, Jim. We're a team. Inseparable." 

"I love you," Jim whispered, clutching Blair impossibly tighter. "I need you so much." 

"I know. I need you too, mine. I always knew, but I sure found out when you were gone. Just try to relax and remember to breathe, babe. Come on, deep breaths. Calm down. You're gonna be okay." Blair continued his soothing litany, stroking Jim's hair and rubbing his back in slow strokes. 

"I feel like I could pass out without too much trouble here, sweetheart," Jim said, his tears quieted, but his voice weak. 

"Just rest here a minute. Catch your breath." 

"I can't see him again. I can't go in there, Blair." 

"We won't. We'll go home, lover. Simon'll call and fill us in on anything important we need to know." 

"I should...be able to face him. God, I feel like such a damned...weakling." 

"It was a shock, man. Hell, it shocked _me_ and I never even saw the son of a bitch before." 

"You didn't run out of the room and barf in the toilet." 

"I wasn't raped." 

"Thank God." 

"Think you're ready to try standing now?" 

"Yeah. Better get my land legs back. I don't think you want to carry me to the truck, do you?" 

"I only have one back, Jim. I plan to make it last a while." 

"Point taken," Jim replied, chuckling a little in spite of his misery. 

The two men struggled to their feet, and Jim splashed some water on his face, unnerved by the ashen pallor he saw when he looked in the mirror. 

"All I need is a flat head and some big shoes, and I could play Herman Munster without the make-up," Jim opined, taking in his whitish coloring with a lingering tinge of green to it. Blair laughed out loud. 

"If you're Herman, I have to be Lily, and there ain't no way I'm walking around dressed like that." 

"Guess we ought to go home, huh?" Jim managed a little smile. 

"Guess so." Blair slid his arm around Jim's waist and the other man's arm came around the smaller set of shoulders. 

"I'm cold," Jim said, shivering a bit as they walked down the hall. 

"Sit tight right here. I'll slip in and get our coats." Blair hurried to the court room, slipping in as quietly as possible to retrieve their top coats off the seats they had vacated. Both men had appeared in suits and ties every day in the court room, hoping that any little extra respect they might gain from the jury would go well for the cause of nailing Bernardi. 

"How's Jim?" Simon leaned over and whispered as Blair gathered the coats. 

"Okay. We'll call you later," Blair mouthed, slipping back out with the coats as Wilson continued his testimony. 

Continued in part seven.


	7. Chapter 7

Due to the length of this story, it's been split into nine parts for easier loading.

## The Secret Life of J.J. Rush

by Candy Apple

Continued from part six.

* * *

**THE SECRET LIFE OF J.J. RUSH - part seven**

by 

Candy Apple 

"Jim?" Blair approached his lover where he sat like a statue on a bench in the hallway. 

"He's finally telling the truth," Jim stated, leaning back in the seat, resting his head against the wall and closing his eyes. 

"Why do you think he finally cooperated?" Blair sat on the edge of the bench, not sure if he should prod Jim to slip his coat on so they could leave. 

"I don't know." Jim straightened up and seemed to really notice his partner there, two coats piled in his lap. "They're going to fry Bernardi's ass." 

"Every other part of the DA's case was airtight except for Wilson's lies." 

"I wonder if this is finally going to be over," Jim queried, standing tiredly and smiling a little as Blair held his coat for him. Once it was on, he took Blair's and returned the favor. 

"We're in the home stretch, love. Want me to drive?" Blair offered. 

"No. I think I've got my head together now." They started walking down the hall toward the exit. "It was seeing him again--it was like my senses... _attacked_ me with his smell, his voice, the sight of him...I had to get away." 

"You haven't been that close to any of those guys since it happened. And you weren't prepared for it today." 

"I should be able to handle this by now. I feel like I just slid back about six months." 

"There's no big disgrace if you have some bad days or bad reactions. And there's no big disgrace in going back to Jack O'Brien for a few sessions if you need some help." 

"I don't know if I'm ready to admit that defeat just yet." 

"But see, it isn't a defeat, man. Not at all. You're just going through a different phase of your recovery. You got hit with a new upset today being confronted with one of the bastards in person." 

"I don't want to start therapy up again." Jim took Blair's hand as they made their way across the icy parking lot, wind biting at their faces. 

"Some of it's probably just going take some time." 

"Detective Ellison?!" A man's eager voice came from behind them. Both men turned in time to see a reporter hurrying toward them with a photographer in tow. 

"I don't fucking believe this," Jim muttered. 

"Detective Ellison, rumor has it that--" 

"No comment," Jim stated flatly, putting a guiding hand in the middle of Blair's back to keep him moving along. 

"What was your role in the investigation against Bernardi?" The young man with the dark hair and glasses continued to dog their steps, his photographer getting off a couple shots every time Jim turned to give the man the brush-off. 

"Look, I'm going to tell you one more time, _NO COMMENT_. What part of that statement isn't getting through?" Jim demanded, stopping dead in his tracks to face the eager reporter. 

"You and your partner were at the center of a controversy last year, involving three of your colleagues who ended up charged with aggravated assault among other things. Mr. Sandburg, do you have any comment?" 

"Yeah. I have a comment. Get a life and let us have ours in peace." Blair got a hold of Jim's arm and encouraged him to turn away and walk with him, leaving the reporter behind again. 

"Detective Ellison, is it true that you were the undercover officer who was raped by Bernardi's people?" 

"That's it." Blair spun around on his heel and advanced toward the reporter, moving swiftly enough that even Jim didn't catch his arm in time to pull him back. "You listen to me, you son of a bitch, and you listen good. You have no right harassing us with some unsupported rumor, dogging us and stalking us in parking lots. He said 'no comment', and he meant 'no comment'. You either leave us alone now, or I'll file a harassment complaint against you. You print anything slanderous in that half-assed rag you write for, and I'll sue your ass for libel. Is that a clear enough comment for you?" 

"No need to get hostile, Mr. Sandburg. I obviously touched a sore spot. I apologize." 

"Being stalked in parking lots by some sicko shouting out groundless rumors is a sore spot, and you're right, you touched that one. Don't make the mistake again." Blair turned and rejoined his partner, who trudged through the slush with him in silence until they were in the haven of the truck, the reporter retreating in the opposite 

"Nice work back there, sweetheart. You told him off like a pro. Back in the days when I wasn't a distracted, sniveling basket case, I probably would have done the same thing." Jim started up the engine. 

"You're not a sniveling basket case. You're distracted, big time, and that's pretty understandable." 

"You'd let me off the hook no matter how bad off I was, Chief." 

"No, Jim, I wouldn't. If I thought you were a basket case, I'd be haranguing you to go see the shrink. I think you're distracted and overwrought, and I would be too. I _am_. It's just that for me, it's coming out in hostility. That's one of the things I need to work through with Jack. My anger. I've got so damned much of it, Jim. I feel like I could just...explode sometimes. Jack said I suppress anger the way you sometimes suppress emotions, and that Naomi taught me to do that just like your dad taught you to suppress feelings." 

"Naomi and suppression? How'd he get those two words in the same sentence with a straight face?" Jim asked, smiling. Blair laughed a little. 

"Well, his theory is that the way Naomi dealt with temper tantrums was non-violent, but it was still very stringent punishment for a child. I had to think on that one for a long time, but it a way, it's true. She'd tell me she was disappointed in me, or that she was sad that I was channeling my anger in such a destructive way, and then she'd make me meditate. But see, the thing is, you can't _make_ someone meditate. Least of all a child. So it translated into making me feel like I hurt her by what I did and then dwelling on it for however long she'd make me sit there. I wasn't meditating. I wasn't 'letting go of the anger'. I was being conditioned not to let it rip." 

"I never thought of it that way. But then I guess I never really thought of Naomi as a disciplinarian. I never could picture her hitting you." 

"She didn't. I think she swatted my butt once for getting away from her in a parking lot, but that's something she told me about. I was too little to remember it--and hey, I could've gotten killed, so that was a big exception to the no hitting policy." Blair paused. "The thing is, she didn't see it as punishment. She saw it as non-violence, as teaching me to handle anger in a positive way. I was just a little too young when she first started on it to really understand it as more than a giant 'time out'. So I learned not to show the anger. To stuff it inside and have this insufferably tolerant disposition where nothing pissed me off." 

"So the sweet-natured Blair I fell in love with is really an ornery SOB in disguise?" Jim asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as Blair laughed. 

"I just have to learn how to channel this anger, because it's too big to stuff inside. Short of chopping up Bernardi and his goons with a large hatchet, there's no easy way to overcome it. So that's the big thing I have to work with Jack on overcoming. I just know that I can't stand to see you get hurt anymore. And I'll do whatever I have to do to stop that from happening." 

"Thanks for handling that jerk. And for loving this one," Jim added. Then, smiling a bit, he added, "I kind of like this role reversal thing we've got going on, Chief. You do the whole protector thing very well." 

"I just need the right incentive. I won't let anyone else hurt you, Jim. If there's any way I can stop it, I will." 

"I know that, baby. And I love you with all my heart for it. I feel the same way about you." 

"Think that jerk'll try to print something about you?" 

"I doubt it. He really doesn't have confirmation. If Bernardi talks, it could hurt his case, and would probably piss of the judge. I probably can't keep it a secret forever. I mean, everyone at headquarters already knows anyway. It'll get out eventually." Jim sighed. "I didn't want that damned stigma hung on me." 

"I don't think anyone sees it as a stigma, lover. I don't care what kind of acrobatics Fuller performed for the jury. They were still yours, Jim. They believed you. They trusted you. And they were moved by you. I know. I watched them. They're all yours, man. They're going to hang his ass but good." 

"Is this a scientific observation from the anthropologist?" Jim asked. 

"As a matter of fact, yes. I spent a lot of time studying their expressions and their body language. You had one of the _men_ reaching for his hanky. Your sincerity touched them, and they identified with you." 

"I hope so. I don't care what any of them really think of me personally, as long as they return a guilty verdict on Bernardi. If they just convict the bastard on the charges related to Annette Simmons, he'll go down for life." 

"The case is strong in that department, thanks to you and Tina." 

"Yeah, well, Fuller is good at theatrics. And those can distract people from the facts in a huge way. Look at the celebrity trials--the facts become secondary to the fashion reports on the lawyers and the speculation on which members of the defense team are in bed--literally-- with which members of the prosecution team. It's a circus. Fuller is one of those clowns that belong in that arena." 

"But the judge isn't interested in a circus, and the jury believed you, long before Wilson changed his story." 

"When this case is over, let's go somewhere. Maybe the honeymoon we never had. What do you say?" 

"I say when do we leave, man?" Blair replied, grinning enthusiastically. 

"You're the researcher. Find us someplace special, huh?" Jim took a hold of Blair's hand and squeezed it. The fatigue in the strong, handsome face of his lover tore at Blair's heart. Jim needed to escape, and he needed it badly. 

"I'll find us someplace peaceful and romantic and magical. I promise." 

"I'll hold you to that, angel." Jim kissed Blair's hand and then released it, starting up the truck to head for the loft. 

* * *

Jim tossed his keys in the basket and crossed the living room tiredly, heading for the stairs. Blair came in behind him, locking the door for the night and dispatching his own keys to join Jim's. He paused where he stood a moment and couldn't help but admire the long, statuesque form clad in the dark topcoat moving up the steps. 

When Jim reached the top, he turned back and smiled down at his lover. Figuring Jim must have heard his heart rate pick up a little, Blair grinned back, and hurried to join him. 

"Man, you look _so_ good in that coat," Blair commented, running his hands down the front of the coat, over the muscled chest that lurked beneath it. 

"You're giving off quite a bit of heat there, sweetheart." Jim slid his arms around Blair's waist and swooped down on the neck that was exposed with Blair's hair tied back. After spending considerable time leaving a large passion mark there, Jim unleashed the hair and ran his fingers through it, letting it fall on Blair's shoulders. "Now you're going to have to wear your hair down for me tomorrow." 

"I'll wear a big pink bow in it if that's what you want," Blair muttered as Jim's talented mouth worked on another spot on his throat. "But I can't cover that one with it." 

"Who cares?" Jim set to work on dispensing with Blair's tie and opening the collar of his shirt, really getting down to business kissing and nibbling at the soft skin that was revealed. 

"Oh, man..." Blair groaned, loving the oral assault and the fact that he was not only being marked as Jim's, but visibly so. His cock stirred and began to harden at the thought. 

The two men removed each other's clothing with surprising efficiency, letting it drop where it would until a very naked Jim pushed a very naked Blair back on the bed and pounced on him, kissing and licking every inch of exposed skin. 

"Jim...please, lover..." Blair spread his legs wide and thrust up his hips, giving Jim a clear signal what he wanted. "Inside..." he managed, panting from his arousal and the excitement Jim's mouth had created over nipples, chest and stomach. 

"Hang on, baby." Jim fumbled for the lube and Blair pulled his knees up, exposing his center for Jim's preparations. 

"Jim...soon...please..." 

"Almost ready, sweetheart," Jim responded, making a quick but careful progression of stretching and lubing until he felt comfortable that Blair was ready. After coating himself, he slid into Blair in one quick, smooth thrust, bringing a delighted shout from his overheated lover. 

"Oh, God, Jim...let me have it...please..." Blair begged, thrusting up to impale himself further. 

Jim was only too happy to comply with the impassioned request, pulling back almost all the way out and sliding back in over and over again, dragging screams out of Blair until he clutched the bedclothes in white knuckled fists and held on for the ride. With strong thighs clutching his body, Jim rode the tides of their passion hard, leaning in to possess Blair's mouth as thoroughly as he was possessing his body. Blair's hands came up to clutch at Jim's shoulders, and one slid into his hair, holding him in place to prolong the kissing. 

Blair pulled his mouth free, and with a cry of Jim's name, spurted his completion between them as the contractions of his body dragged a climax out of his partner, who slumped on top of his lover, boneless. Trapped under a large blanket of hot, moist flesh, Blair started lazily licking and nibbling at Jim's neck, running his fingers through the soft hair, in no particular hurry to release Jim from the grip of his thighs or his body. 

"Can you breathe, sweetheart?" 

"Mmhm," Blair replied, his face buried in the warm haven of Jim's neck, where he was working on a couple of passion marks of his own. 

"What got you so hot, baby?" Jim reached under Blair and cupped his ass in both hands. 

"Your topcoat," Blair replied before moving up Jim's throat to his jaw, kissing and licking and nibbling. 

"My topcoat." It was a deadpan statement. 

"It's so long (kiss) and straight (kiss) and it looks so sexy (kiss) because you're so tall and (nibble) strong and perfect." Blair closed his mouth over Jim's a breath-stealing kiss. 

"So should I start wearing to to bed at night?" Jim teased, rolling them over so Blair rested on top of him. He continued to rub the firm globes in his hands, knowing it made Blair crazy. The younger man let his thighs spread so he was straddling Jim, still joined. 

"You shouldn't wear anything to bed at night." 

"You sure you didn't fix yourself some kind of aphrodisiac tea this morning?" 

"I'm sure. I'm just high on you, lover," Blair explained, pushing up and leaning on his hands, grinning down at Jim. 

"I'm going to move, baby." 

"That was one of the best ever," Blair managed as they shifted to accommodate Jim's withdrawal from Blair's body. "I wanted it so bad." Blair flopped back on Jim's chest, his legs still spread, grunting pleasurably as Jim massaged his buttocks gently but firmly. 

"Feels good, huh?" Jim asked affectionately, picking up the pace of the kneading and rubbing and squeezing motions of his hands on the soft flesh. He was rewarded with another guttural groan and a wiggle of hips. 

"Don't feel like doing anything about it, but I like the way it feels," Blair said honestly, his eyes drifting shut. 

"I haven't given you a real massage in a long time, have I?" 

"Rubbing my butt's close enough," Blair replied, smiling against Jim's chest. 

"I love you." 

"I love you too," Blair said through a yawn. Jim's hands stilled and he gently patted Blair's butt before moving his arms up to enfold his lover tightly against himself. Together they gathered the comforter around themselves and dozed off to sleep. 

* * *

Closing arguments in the Bernardi trial took place a couple days later. In the first week of February, the case was turned over to the jury. They had a long list of charges to sift through, everything from prostitution and illegal gambling to first degree murder and various conspiracy charges relating to Jim's ordeal. 

With the jury out, Jim decided to return to work, figuring a little business as usual routine would be good for him. Blair was at his side most of the time, since he was on leave from Rainier. Jim opted not to see the therapist again, while Blair spent a couple hours per week with him. 

The mystery of Sam Wilson's sudden compliance unfolded soon after Jim's return to active duty. While running a routine check on another Wilson--this one named Samantha, who was a suspect in a current murder case--Jim ended up perusing Sam Wilson's record out of dark curiosity. He found a reference to a Mindy Wilson, Sam's sister. Upon running Mindy's name, he found himself viewing a juvenile record--Mindy was seventeen, and her last encounter with Cascade's finest had been for possession of marijuana. That topped a list of several offenses, including shoplifting, prostitution and vandalism. The pot charges had been dropped the same day that Sam Wilson decided to change his story. 

Mindy's last arrest before the pot charge had been two years earlier. In that time, there was no record of her having been arrested or involved in any sort of trouble. Chances were good that the Major Crimes team had searched Wilson's background for a weak spot and then homed in on it. Mindy was picked up outside her high school, detained at headquarters for an undisclosed period of time, then released to her mother's custody. 

The officer in charge of the case was Rafe, and he made a note on the file that there was enough doubt as to how the girl came by the drugs to formally charge her. She claimed her boyfriend must have put it in her backpack, and Rafe noted that the juvenile she named as her boyfriend had a long list of possession charges after his name, so he found that story plausible and let her go. 

As life had seemed to take on some semblance of normality again, and Jim's world seemed to be moving back into alignment, Blair started working on his dissertation a little, the stress of the trial somewhat behind them now that it was in the hands of the jury. When he wasn't with Jim, he was haunting the library, working on his computer, meditating, or just taking some of the time Jack O'Brien kept telling him he needed to just do nothing. 

It was on one of these "nothing" outings that Blair braved the icy February wind chill to take a walk through Cascade Memorial Park to watch the ice skaters. Jim was just trudging through paperwork at the department, and Blair felt he needed some down time, so he bundled up and went to the edge of the pond and watched the Saturday afternoon crowd trying their luck on the ice. He smiled as he thought about coaxing Jim out there to skate. Blair had only been on skates a few times in his life, and it hadn't been a terribly pretty sight. For some reason, he pictured Jim as a good skater, someone who could probably teach him how to do it right. Of course, he gave Jim credit for knowing how to do almost everything, even if there was no reason to assume he could. 

A young couple stopped not too far from where Blair stood, laughing, talking and watching the skaters. Within moments, they gave up on the chatter and kissed, more than once, then stood there, each with an arm around the other, looking out at the pond and talking softly, occasionally stealing little kisses. 

Blair turned away from them and closed his eyes, feeling a wet burning behind them. If he behaved that way with his lover in this setting, there would be so many disgusted looks and exchanged mutterings among the other people nearby that it would drive Jim crazy. It would annoy Blair, but he would be much better able to tune it out than his sentinel lover would. On the few occasions they'd tried to take the same privileges other lovers have in regard to public displays of affection, Jim had usually ended up irritable and short-tem pered and would eventually admit that he was sick of the earful of crude remarks and name-calling and the eyeful of disgusted looks. None of it was anything he could act on, since it was something his sentinel abilities detected. Given Jim's height, demeanor and obvious superior physical condition, very few people made their disgust known in obvious enough ways to incur his retaliation. But the disgust was still there, nonetheless. 

Blair opened his eyes again, aware of the bitter bite of the cold wind against a couple of tears that slipped under his closed lids. What they had gone through to win the right to love each other wasn't fair. And even then, they still hadn't earned the right to enjoy the simple pleasure the young couple nearby were enjoying. To show their love openly without being made to feel like some sort of freak show. 

The couple kissed again, and it was much more prolonged. Blair felt the envy of this public intimacy stab him in the chest, and he suddenly missed Jim so bitterly that it was becoming unbearable. 

"What's your problem, buddy?" The male half of the couple had spotted him standing there near the tree, his eyes riveted on their kiss. 

"How does it feel?" Blair shot back, realizing the other man had no way of knowing the significance of that comment. He turned and started back toward his car. In a moment, his arm was grabbed and he was spun around to face the slightly taller, slightly younger man he had been watching. 

"You some kind of peeping tom or what?" 

"Look, I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to invade your privacy." Blair jerked his arm free of the other man's grip. "I don't want any trouble with you." 

"Then you shouldn't have started it," the dark-haired man spat back. In a flash quick enough to catch Blair off guard, the man swung and his fist impacted with Blair's face, sending him sprawling on his back in the snow. 

"Will!! Stop it!!" a female voice came from behind the angry man. His girlfriend came to a skidding stop next to him. "Leave him alone," she said, taking a hold of her boyfriend's arm. "I'm really sorry," she said to Blair, who was just becoming aware of where the fist had landed, and could feel the swelling starting around his eye. Unmoved by his girlfriend's intervention, the other man leaned toward Blair a moment, when he froze, staring at a point behind the fallen man. 

"I hope you've got damned good health insurance, you son of a bitch!" Jim's voice startled Blair, and attracted the attention of a good number of people in the park. 

"Look, man, it was a misunderstanding!" the young man hastened to explain, backing away from where Blair was sprawled, holding both hands up placatingly. "I, uh, was just gonna apologize and uh, help him up." 

"Jim, come on, he's not worth the effort," Blair called after his advancing lover. Given Jim's strength and combat training, he could make short work of this garden-variety bully, and would probably end up in jail on assault charges. Or worse, depending on how angry he got, and he looked pretty damned angry. 

Jim grabbed the front of the other man's jacket, lifted him about four inches off the ground and slammed him against the nearby tree. Keeping an arm forcefully under the man's throat, pinning him in place, he fished out his ID and shoved it in the startled man's face. 

"You're under arrest for assault and battery. You have the right to remain silent--" 

"Jim--" 

"Stay out of this, Chief," Jim shot back at Blair, who had gotten up and was right behind him, then returned to reading the other man his rights before letting him back down to his feet, spinning him around and cuffing him. "You come down to the station. We'll need your signature on a complaint." 

"Jim--" 

"This guy didn't slug you?" 

"Well, yeah, but--" 

"But what?" Jim demanded. Blair chewed his lower lip a moment, then looked at the girl, who seemed horrified by the whole ordeal, tears tracking down her cheeks. 

"Does he ever hit you?" Blair asked her, surprising all three of the others present. 

"Of course not!" she shot back with genuine indignation. From the way the two had been kissing and interacting before the incident, Blair was inclined to believe her. With Jim's volatile temper, he could only too easily see himself in her place, with Jim being hauled away in handcuffs for slugging some guy who pissed him off by staring at them too long. Hoping he was banking a little good Karma for both of them, he turned back to Jim. 

"Please let him go, Jim." 

"You're kidding, right?" Jim asked, a disbelieving half-smile on his face. 

"No. Look, I was staring at them--I didn't meant to--and he got upset. It happens." 

"Staring isn't adequate provocation for a physical assault." 

"I know that, but I think it was just a misunderstanding. I said something weird, I was thinking about something totally different, and I think he took it the wrong way." 

"You really want to let this pass?" 

"Yeah, I really do." 

"What's your name, ace?" Jim asked the man who was still being held against the tree, facing away from the group. 

"Will Foster." 

"All right, Will Foster. You're off the hook for the moment, because he's a hell of a lot more forgiving than I am." Jim unfastened the cuffs, and the other man moved away cautiously, and was immediately embraced by his relieved, crying girlfriend. "Keep your nose clean, Foster. I'd love a reason to throw your ass in jail. Got it?" 

"Yeah, I got it." He looked over at Blair. "I'm sorry about before. Thanks for, uh, you know..." The other man held out his hand to shake, but Blair just raised his hand, shaking his head. 

"Don't push it, man." 

"Just get moving, Foster." 

The other man didn't say anything else, but guided his clinging girlfriend along with an arm around her as they hurried away from the scene. 

"You want to tell me why I just let that son of bitch walk?" 

"What are you doing here anyway? I thought I was supposed to meet you at the station later?" 

"It's later," Jim responded. 

"Oh, man." Blair checked his watch, surprised to see that it was already almost four-thirty and he had been due to meet Jim at four. 

"Have you been crying?" Jim took a hold of Blair's chin and evaluated his face carefully. The other man knew lying was pointless. Jim had his answer by now anyway. "We better go home and put some ice on that eye." Jim winced a little as he took in the swelling and the start of a very prominent shiner. 

"I was standing here watching them--the couple. And they were talking and kissing and holding each other, right out here with all these people...nobody was looking at them all that much. Nobody thought anything of it. They were just a couple of lovers in the park. No big deal." 

"I think I see where this is headed," Jim said softly, releasing Blair's chin and shoving his gloved hands back in the pockets of his leather coat. 

"I just got to feeling bad, you know, that when we do something like that, somebody always looks at us funny or has something to say that you can overhear. I guess I wanted you to let him go because I know you'd deal with people staring at us the same way if you could--or if the people who make remarks about us made them to your face. He got annoyed that I was staring--I actually wasn't _watching_ them, I was more or less lost in my own thoughts, really, and just kept staring. He asked me what I was looking at, or what my problem was, or something like that, and I said 'How does it feel?' I was thinking out loud. I didn't mean to say it to him, but I guess he thought I was some sort of voyeur asking him how it felt to kiss her. I don't know. Anyway, I figured that maybe if I could forgive him, it would bank a little good Karma for us if there's ever a scene with us and some jerk who's watching us. You'd have probably slugged me in his place." 

"Come on, Chief. You're frozen through. Let's go home and thaw out and take care of your eye." Jim slid his arm around Blair's shoulders, and the younger man mirrored the gesture, leaning into Jim and not really caring who was watching. 

"I was crying because I felt bad we couldn't have their freedom, but mostly because I was watching them kissing and messing around and I wanted to be with you." 

"You're with me now, sweetheart." 

"How'd you know where to find me?" 

"Just a fluke. I know you come here to think sometimes--usually in the nice weather, though," Jim added, smiling a little. 

"So how about teaching me how to skate, huh?" 

"What makes you think I'm any good at it?" Jim asked, the amusement plain in his voice. 

"I bet you are." Blair was smiling as Jim stopped them in their tracks and turned to face Blair. It was painfully cold, and there on the hill where they stood, not far from where their vehicles were parked, the wind was even more powerful. Snow was falling, fluffy white snowflakes sticking to Blair's curls, which were hanging loose on his shoulders. 

Jim slid both hands into the mass of soft hair and swooped on Blair for a prolonged, passionate kiss, right there on the hill in the park on a Saturday afternoon. When they finally separated, the two men rested their foreheads together, smiling and a little breathless. 

"Was that a yes about the skating?" Blair asked. Jim laughed and pulled him into a tight embrace. 

"That was a yes to anything you ask, angel. If you want to kiss in the park on Saturday afternoon, ice skate, whatever, all you ever have to do is ask." 

"Thank you for falling in love with me," Blair murmured against Jim's chest. "For making my life so special. I love you so much, mine. So much more than you'll ever know." 

"I know," Jim replied softly, pulling back and looking Blair in the eyes. "I know how much I love you, so I think I've got a little idea." 

"What I said before...Jim, I didn't mean that I ever...that what we have isn't perfect--" 

"You'd just like the rest of the world to be happy for us." Jim smiled as Blair nodded a little, looking down. "I guess for now we'll have to settle for our friends being happy for us and the rest of the world having to deal with their own prejudices." Jim looked at Blair's swelling eye, and released the younger man, digging around in his pockets. Blair smiled, a bit confused, when Jim produced a sandwich-sized evidence bag, but laughed a little when the larger man crouched down to fill it with snow. He then wrapped the makeshift ice bag in his handkerchief so it wasn't too cold against Blair's skin. "Hold this on your eye 'til we get home." 

"Is that a survivalist trick from Covert Ops or something?" Blair asked, accepting the ice bag and feeling the relief as it began to chill the pain. 

"Nope. Seeing you hurting is a real good motivator for me to improvise in a big hurry." Jim leaned forward and kissed Blair's forehead, then put his arm back around him and lead him toward the Volvo and the Ford pulled up behind it. "We can drive your car home. I'll come back and get the truck." 

"I can drive--" 

"Not with one eye half closed. No arguments. Give me the keys, sweetheart." Jim held out his hand and Blair placed the keys there, then got into the passenger side while Jim went back to the truck to be sure it was locked and then folded himself into the Volvo and started the engine. 

As soon as they were home, Jim set out again in the Volvo and swung by the station to pick up Rafe, who had agreed to help him retrieve his truck. After the prolonged shifting around of vehicles, Rafe was on his way home in his own car from the police garage, and Jim drove back home in the truck, having left the Volvo there before taking Rafe back to headquarters. 

When he entered the loft, the pleasant rush of warmth began thawing his wind-nipped skin. Blair had a good fire going, something soft playing on the stereo, the mattress from his old futon bed along with a bunch of pillows and blankets spread near the fireplace. 

"Hey, Jim," Blair's voice came from the kitchen, where he was preparing something hot and tasty-smelling in a pan on the stove. 

"Let me see your eye," Jim said, moving toward Blair and taking a hold of his chin. "That's a nasty one, Chief." 

"I'll survive. I'm making us some stew and coffee, and there are rolls in the oven. I thought we could eat by the fireplace. I don't know about you, but I'm freezing." 

"I was, until I came in here," Jim responded, wrapping his arms around Blair from behind as the younger man stirred the delicious-smelling beef stew. It was a reheat of some he'd made the night before, but it had been delicious then too. The wind picked up outside, and whistled loudly as it assaulted the building, seeping in microscopic air holes in the window casings. 

"Thanks for coming to my rescue in the park today." 

"I'll always come to your rescue, sweetheart. As long as I live...well, even after that, if I can." 

"You won't have to, because I won't last a day without you." 

Jim didn't try bolstering Blair with a lot of pep talks on how well he would survive. He fervently hoped he would, and that he'd go on and make the most of whatever time he had left beyond Jim's. Their age difference wasn't exactly a huge chasm, but it was enough to assume that, if all went according to statistical probability, Blair would have to put in some of his "golden years" alone. Based on how thin, pale, drawn and generally run-down Blair was when Jim returned from his ill-fated life as J.J. Rush, Jim didn't hold the same level of confidence in Blair's resiliency without him that he once had. It was a very good motivator to be careful on the job and take care of his own health. Blair's love for him obviously translated into a very tangible need. And Jim would fight with his last breath to meet one of Blair's needs. 

"Guess I have to live to be an old fart then." Jim felt Blair smile at the spot where their faces were touching. 

"You'll stay with me forever, then?" 

"You have my word on that. You know I'll always be with you." 

"I know." 

"Dinner smells good. So do you," Jim murmured against Blair's neck where it rose out of the bulky sweater he was wearing. "Next Friday's Valentine's Day. What do you want to do to celebrate, huh?" 

"Take the day off and stay at home together and fool around all day." 

"Now those are the words every man dreams of hearing." Jim laughed a little. "Where have you been all my life?" 

"Waiting for you to find me," Blair answered, smiling. "You know, Jim, it's not that I don't love all this togetherness and everything, but I need to get the rolls out of the oven." 

"Sorry, sweetheart," Jim responded, giving Blair a last squeeze and moving away to start transporting their provisions into the living room. He set the coffee table up as a supply station, and then went into the bathroom to shower quickly, as Blair had earlier, and then upstairs to change into jeans and a favorite old sweater. 

By the time Jim returned downstairs, Blair had everything laid out on the coffee table like their own little buffet. The loft was dark except for the orangish-gold glow of the fire and a few well-placed candles. The whistling wind conspired with the cozy setting to make the living room seem like heaven. 

"This was a great idea, Chief," Jim said, sitting on the makeshift bed by the fireplace. Blair served him a bowl of the stew and a roll, which he began eating as soon as his lover was seated with his own food. 

"I thought we needed a little change of pace. Plus, we were both kind of frozen from standing around in the park." 

"How's your eye feeling?" 

"Like it ran into a very large fist. It hurts. I'll live." 

"Guess it'll be up to me to keep your mind off it tonight, huh?" 

"Guess so," Blair responded, smiling as he ate his meal. "We got a new neighbor next door." 

"Do I want to hear this?" Jim asked hesitantly, having been so relieved by Stan's absence that the prospect of any new neighbor made his blood run cold. 

"Could be good or bad. It's one of the professors from the University. I think it'll be cool though. He's probably about your age, single, and he teaches Biology and Natural Science. If you think _I'm_ a science nerd..." Blair trailed off, laughing a little. 

"Do you know this guy very well?" 

"Only to speak to in the hall. He's divorced, has a grown son who's a junior at Rainier." 

"I hope he's bald and has body odor." 

"You have to get over this jealousy thing, man. I am _so_ not looking for anybody else." Blair shook his head as he tore off a piece of his roll to soak up a little of the stew's broth. 

"I think I'm past that, sweetheart," Jim responded, laughing. "I was kidding." He paused a few moments. "Well, mostly." 

"He doesn't have body odor, that I've noticed passing him in the hall anyway, and I'd call him average-looking. Greying black hair and a short beard, glasses. He's a little taller than me." 

"Does he know you live here?" 

"He does now. I didn't know he'd moved in until I ran into him by the mailboxes downstairs. He's pretty quiet. He'll probably keep to himself." 

"I wonder where Stan ended up." 

"The last time I saw him--it was right before you were released from the hospital the second time--he said he was going to stay with his mother in Spokane while he got his strength back and then look for another place--maybe in Spokane or Seattle." 

"Do you miss him? I know you were friends before all this happened." 

"We weren't exactly _friends_. More like acquaintances. A friend wouldn't have done what he did. I _thought_ he was a friend. He was a good listener, and I was pretty screwed up while you were gone. He looked in on me while I was sick, stuff like that." 

"Sick?" 

"I had a really bad cold. He ran a couple errands for me while I had a fever and checked up on me from time to time. I appreciated it at the time." Blair shook his head. "None of that spelled burgeoning romance to me, but I guess it did to him." Blair shrugged and set his empty dish aside. "I don't miss him." 

"Good. As much as I hated the guy...Blair, I don't want to stop you from having the friends you want to have. I can't promise you I won't ever get jealous again, because I know that's a lie. It's not that I don't trust you, but in case you haven't noticed, you turn a lot of heads." 

"Yeah, sure I do," Blair replied, laughing a little and taking a drink of his coffee. 

"Oh, come on, Sandburg. I know you're not that naive. You know what you look like." 

"Yeah. And I don't understand what the fuss is all about." 

"Then you have lousy taste." 

"Guess I just go more for big, buff cops," Blair responded, flexing his eyebrows. "Now you want to talk about a head-turner. Man, when the women get a look at you, I feel like I should be traveling with a tranquilizer gun in case one goes wild and attacks." 

"Well, I haven't had to peel any sex-starved women off me lately, Chief." 

"Right, because they know I'd have to dismember them if they did." 

"Whoa, and you call _me_ the jealous type." 

"I don't get jealous. I get even," Blair replied, cackling a little. 

The two men chattered on and finished their meal and a couple cups of coffee, just visiting and watching the snow fall on the frigid outside world. When most of the coffee had been drained, Jim set their cups aside and stretched out on the futon mattress, with Blair snuggling against his side, head resting on the broad chest. Jim let his hand idly run through Blair's hair, just soaking up the perfect relaxation and closeness and peace of the moment. 

"You're still my best friend," he said softly, letting his eyes drift shut and releasing a cleansing breath. 

"Ditto, lover. Still my favorite person." 

"Sometimes the whole mess with Bernardi seems like it happened years ago." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah. Tonight...I can't picture everything in my world not being perfect." Jim smiled. "I know it isn't, but this is. Tonight is." 

"Just feels good to lie here and be so warm and comfortable and listen to the music together." 

"Do you mind if we just let it be like this a while?" Jim wanted to make love to Blair soon, but not right away. There was something magical about the peace and tranquility of the crackling fire, the soft music and the dancing golden light of the room. He just wanted to rest there and feel Blair close against him, just sharing each other's space. 

"I'd like that." 

They passed a few hours that way, just lying there and relaxing, almost like a shared meditation. Occasionally, they talked about something, mostly peaceful little topics, shared anecdotes from each other's lives, reflections on their "wedding reception" almost a year earlier, a few stray ponderings about Jim's most recent case. By midnight they were asleep in each other's arms. 

* * *

When Blair woke, it was to the feeling of warm lips working their way up his stomach as his sweater was pushed upward. He smiled and let out a little groan of approval without opening his eyes. He raised his arms when gentle hands pushed the sweater up farther, then pulled it over his head and tossed it aside. He finally opened drowsy eyes to see a vision that quickly dispelled any thoughts of sleep. Jim had already stripped, and now that sleek, perfectly sculpted body was moving over him, undressing him slowly, kissing every inch of revealed flesh. Blair moaned in relief when his rapidly engorging cock finally was released from the confines of his jeans, and happily raised up and cooperated in ridding himself of the last of his garments. 

Jim carefully lowered himself to blanket his lover, kissing him and probing the full, soft lips with his tongue. He gained entry immediately, their mouths melding and tongues sliding together in perfect synch. Jim was rocking them together a bit now, driving Blair crazy with the friction. He was stunned speechless by Jim's next maneuver. He found the lube Blair had stashed under the pillows and handed it to the smaller man, kissing him gently before taking a deep breath and rolling over on his side. 

Blair stared at the lube in his hands for a moment as if it were a live snake, then realized he couldn't let Jim wait long, considering what he was offering. He spooned himself around behind his larger lover, running his hand over pert nipples and letting the hand roam over Jim's firm chest and stomach in a gesture that spoke of pure affection. 

"Are you sure?" he whispered. 

"No," came the hoarse, honest reply. "But I want to try again." 

"I love you, mine." Blair planted a kiss on Jim's back before uncapping the lube and squeezing some onto his fingers. He took a deep breath and slowly ran his greased finger up and down the seam of Jim's buttocks, letting his finger pass over the little pucker several times before adding more lube and gently probing the little opening. "Love you, babe...love you so much," Blair whispered against Jim's shoulder, trailing kisses over his shoulder and back while the finger finally braved slipping past the initial resistance. 

Jim wasn't objecting or pulling away. He wasn't participating a whole lot either, but Blair had no problem being the one to do most of the work. He knew his normally fearless lover was scared to death of this one act, and all he had the courage to do at the moment was lie there and let Blair touch him. That, in itself, was a huge stride forward for the man who had been able to finally take Blair, or make passionate love to him in a variety of other wonderful ways, but who couldn't lie still and have anything _done to him_ since the rape. 

"Feels so good to touch you, lover. Love you so much, mine," Blair murmured, finally stretching and massaging with the first finger before slipping it back out to lubricate a second one. "Relax, babe. Wanna make it so good for you," Blair whispered, carefully easing two fingers into the snug passage. Not only were they working against Jim's fear-induced tension, but also the fact he hadn't been on the receiving end of this act in ten months now, and his body wasn't as receptive physically as it might have been earlier. 

"Talk to me, Chief," he muttered. 

"Relax and feel me, tune into me, lover. Let your senses fill up with me...with the person you're with. Realize you're with the one who loves you more than his own life. I'd never hurt you, lover. You're safe. Just relax and let yourself feel good. Relax. I won't hurt you," Blair said, all in the same soft, soothing monotone he hoped would keep Jim peaceful. He was rewarded with a relaxation of the muscles that had been tight around his fingers. 

Feeling the burning of his own need now, he let himself remember what it had been like to slide into that hot tunnel, to feel himself sheathed to the hilt inside of Jim's body. He let out a little whimper unintentionally at the memory, the pleasure of the thoughts alone so intense that it was all he could do to remember to talk to Jim. 

"Feeling okay, mine? I love you, you know that. Feels so good to be touching you. Love you so much, babe. We need to stretch a little more. Don't be afraid. You know it's going to feel full and a little uncomfortable at first, but you tell me if it's too much, lover." Blair coated three fingers and offered a silent prayer to any deity who would listen to help him not to hurt Jim in any way, and to help the other man relax and enjoy all the love Blair wanted to share with him. 

"It's okay, sweetheart," Jim responded in a slightly strained voice. "Keep going." 

Blair responded by kissing his way along Jim's back as he carefully stretched the passage with his three fingers, giving Jim plenty of time to adjust to the feeling of being opened, and to begin to enjoy it. His own erection pounded with the need to bury itself in the moist heat his fingers were possessing at the moment, but all he had to do was remind himself of what Jim had been through, and going slowly wasn't any problem at all. When he brushed Jim's prostate, the other man stiffened and let out a moan that was pure pleasure. Blair repeated the motion a few times, keeping Jim grunting and moving on the dancing fingers. 

"I love you, mine. You're everything to me, lover." Blair felt tears welling up with his words. He would sooner die than hurt Jim, but he so badly wanted to express his love fully, to finally be inside the man who was his whole life, to feel that connection again. 

He finally withdrew the fingers, and coated himself with a thick application of the gel. 

"Relax, lover. Just relax. I'm going to try to come in a little ways, and you let me know when you feel okay. I won't move without hearing from you, babe. I won't hurt you, lover." Blair carefully lined himself up with Jim's center, and the other man drew his knees up more, making Blair's entry a bit easier. 

With just the head past the barrier, Blair froze at the little indrawn breath, and stroked Jim's flank lovingly, concentrating on how much he _didn't_ want to hurt Jim, and how much this time was for Jim's pleasure...for his healing...more than for Blair's own gratification. 

"Touch me," Jim managed, and Blair slid his hand around the front of his lover to find a partial erection there. Gritting his teeth at his own partially sheathed position, Blair worked at stroking and pumping the large shaft until it was hardening more and more under his attentions. "More...come inside, baby," Jim finally panted, torn between the pleasure from Blair's hand and the fear of what he would feel when he was fully impaled. Blair could hear the fear in those words, and only eased in a bit more. Feeling the passage accepting him, and hearing some pleasured groans from Jim, he finally moved almost all the way inside Jim's passage, then waited. 

"I love you, mine. Relax. We've got all night, babe." 

"Come in, baby. Now, please," Jim whispered, though the words were unnecessary. Blair felt the muscles clamped around him relaxing, and he slid the rest of the way to finally be sheathed to the hilt. 

"So good...to be inside you again. I love you so much," Blair managed, feeling his ability to keep up a coherent pattern of speech waning. 

They lay there still a few moments, Jim adjusting to the sweet intrusion into his body and Blair treasuring the union they had finally achieved, unwilling to risk hurting Jim or shattering his trust for anything. 

"Move, baby. I'm ready for you," Jim finally whispered, and molding himself to the broad, damp back, his hand busy with Jim's engorged shaft, Blair began a gentle motion, moving out a bit, and back in, keeping the pace slow and the force minimal. 

"Love you, mine," he managed, his voice almost lost to him in the whirlwind of physical and emotional sensations. 

"More, sweetheart. Come on, Blair, make love to me, baby." 

Blair moaned a little at just the words, and began moving a little faster, but still not as fast as he would have if things had been different. Still, the familiar sensation of sliding in and partially out of that tight tunnel was dragging moans and whimpers of pleasure out of him, pulling him closer to his climax with each stroke. 

This time when he impacted with Jim's prostate, he heard a familiar howl of pleasure out of his lover he hadn't heard since the last night they'd made love before Jim entered the life of J.J. Rush. Jim was moving with him now, their rhythm a shared one, their moans mingling. To Blair's delight, Jim came first, spurting his completion over Blair's hand and the bedclothes. The contractions of Jim's muscles around his needy, engorged cock brought Blair to his climax with a scream of Jim's name. 

They lay in silence for long minutes, Blair plastered against his lover's sweaty back, his heart pounding against Jim as his hand wandered soothingly over the flat stomach and broad chest, lulling Jim back to relaxation, his breathing evening out considerably. 

"I love you," Jim whispered, catching the had and kissing it, tasting himself there, but more importantly, reassuring himself with the familiar shape and feeling of his lover's hand in his. 

"I love you too, mine. More than my life." Blair relaxed there a few more minutes, relishing their complete closeness, and feeling the joy wash over him at the barrier they'd crossed this night. His Jim was back. Bernardi's thugs no longer held a part of Jim captive. He was truly free of them now. "I should move, lover." Blair got a tight hold on Jim's hand, not sure if the slow withdrawal of his now-flaccid organ would cause Jim discomfort. If it did, it seemed minimal, and Jim turned over to pull Blair into a tight embrace, their arms and legs tangling together as Blair found the edge of the quilt and pulled it over their cooling bodies. 

"That was...amazing," Jim murmured, pulling Blair tightly against him. 

"Are you okay, lover?" Blair asked from his hiding place against Jim's chest. 

"I'm okay. I'm finally okay, sweetheart." He drew back to look into Blair's eyes. Tears reflected the firelight back to him. "It was perfect." 

"We took it back from them tonight, Jim. Anything they took from us, it's ours again," Blair said softly, reaching up to caress Jim's cheek. Jim turned his face to kiss Blair's palm. 

"It was always here, with us. I just needed some time to find it again. I love you, angel." 

"I love you too." 

And with that, the two men settled in for a peaceful sleep by the light of the fire, wrapped around each other. 

* * *

"I think I'm ready to cut back on the sessions now," Blair said, relaxing into the chair where he sat in Jack O'Brien's office. It was snowing heavily again, and Valentine's Day was just two days away. Blair was still walking on air after making love to Jim the previous Saturday--and repeating the activity just the night before his current counseling session. 

"Any special reason?" 

"I don't know if I should say or not," Blair hesitated. 

"Don't tell me, then, let me guess," the other man said, smiling. "You and Jim passed an important intimate milestone?" 

"Oh, man, is it written on my forehead?" Blair laughed a little and felt his cheeks warm. 

"Not in so many words, but I think you're convinced that Jim is finally whole again, and if he's all right, you're pretty close to it." 

"That about covers it. I've always been relieved you weren't one of those shrinks who don't say anything." 

"Dragging embarrassing answers out of my patients is occasionally necessary, but not always," Jack responded, smiling and taking a swallow of his coffee. "You want to touch base, say, once a month for a while?" 

"Yeah, I'd like that. I'm still...you know, sometimes, I still worry we're going to hit a huge snag. And I'm worried about the trial verdict. If Bernardi gets off easy..." Blair sighed. "I dunno." 

"You don't know if you can handle it or if Jim can?" 

"Either one of us. It's like the only reason this...rage I feel inside about everything is cooling down a bit is because Jim seems better--I mean, aside from the obvious, he had a couple really bad moments confronting it all again at the trial, but he seems to be really healing now, moving on. But still, if Bernardi walks, or if he gets off on a light sentence, I don't know what that'll do to Jim...or to me." 

"Do you think that's likely?" 

"No, I think he'll get the book thrown at him. His last goon confessed, which really messed him up royally. I don't think he has a prayer. I'm just...I guess I'm afraid to hope for things to go back to normal. And I wish the damned jury would come back in." 

"Waiting is hell." 

"You said it." 

"So what are you doing to vent your anger these days?" 

"I don't have nearly as much as before, so it isn't as hard. But I meditate, or I work out a little. I mean, I'm nowhere near Jim's league, but I lift a little, run a little. The last time I went to the gym when I was pissed off, I couldn't move by the time I got home. Of course, Jim massaging me for an hour was kind of fun." Blair flexed his eyebrows. 

"The idea is to expend excess energy, not destroy your musculature," Jack replied, laughing a little. 

"I think I figured that out after I recuperated," Blair said, sharing the laugh. "But I do still go to the gym, or meditate, or sometimes just do something really positive, hopefully with Jim, that reaffirms how good things are, in spite of what we've been through." 

"Then you'd say that--" Jack frowned as the ringing phone cut him off mid-sentence. "Sorry, Blair. Excuse me a minute," he got up and picked up the phone on his desk, annoyed to have been interrupted in the middle of a session. "Right, thanks. I'll tell him." 

"What?" 

"Looks like you got your wish," Jack said, hanging up. "The jury's reached a verdict. You want a ride?" 

"I have to call Jim." Blair pulled out his cell phone and dialed Jim's number. There was an almost immediate reply. "It's me. Where are you?" 

"In the truck on the way to O'Brien's office. Sit tight. I'll pick you up, Chief." 

"Okay. See you in a few." Blair broke the connection. "Jim's coming to get me. But thanks for the offer." 

"No problem. Call me and let me know how it shakes down, huh?" 

"I will," Blair responded, moving toward the door. 

"I'll get a hold of you with an appointment time." 

"Okay. Thanks again, Jack." 

"Take care of yourself, Blair. Hang in there. You're almost home." 

"Yeah, we're gettin' there." Blair smiled slightly and then hurried out of the office and downstairs to wait for Jim. 

* * *

Jim and Blair arrived at the court room just before it was called to order. There were a number of counts pending against Bernardi, and the list of verdicts would be a long one. Blair rested his hand on Jim's arm in a brief gesture of comfort, and it was enclosed quickly in Jim's larger hand and held there. Jim stole a glance across the aisle and caught the eye of Mrs. Simmons, Annette's mother. She had been present in court every day, and had expressed her thanks to Jim on more than one occasion for his sacrifices in going after Annette's killer. 

The older woman smiled and Jim returned it, giving her a little reassuring nod and a covert "thumbs up" with his spare hand. Her smile broadened before she turned back to watch the proceedings. 

The bailiff began reading off the charges, and the jury foreman responded to each one. 

"On the first count of conspiracy to commit murder, how do you find?" This was the count relating to Annette's death. 

"Guilty." At the small word, Mrs. Simmons began quietly crying into the handful of Kleenex she was clutching, and Jim let out a whispered "YES" and squeezed Blair's hand. 

"On the second count of conspiracy to commit murder, how do you find?" Bernardi's order to his men to dispose of Jim had earned him this second charge. 

"Guilty." This drew a little bounce out of Blair, who could barely resist jumping up and cheering. 

The rest of the list went on much the same way, with the charges of prostitution, illegal gambling, assault and battery, and sexual assault all earning guilty verdicts. Sentencing was scheduled for the following week. As soon as the judge announced that court was adjourned, a voluminous "whoop" came out of the team of Vice and Major Crime cops from the undercover team, Simon, Jim and Blair. The commotion of hand-slaps and victory signs were more reminiscent of a championship ball game win that a court verdict. 

In the midst of the merriment, Jim made eye contact with Bernardi as he was being led out of the court room. Despite the horrific way the operation had ended, and Bernardi's brutal retribution, the duplicity of being Bernardi's friend and playing on his grief for his dead brother was a perfect example of why Jim knew he wasn't cut out for prolonged undercover work anymore. 

The criminal didn't shoot Jim the expected look of loathing, but rather an odd look of regret. Jim's own expression was unreadable, and he looked away quickly, concentrating on rejoicing with his colleagues and his lover. 

"Detective Ellison?" A woman's voice came from behind him. Mrs. Simmons smiled up at him. "I wanted to thank you again for what you did for Annette. It means everything to me to know that he didn't get away with it." 

"Me too," Jim replied honestly, leaning down to happily accept her farewell hug. "You take care of yourself, now." 

"One day at a time," she responded, smiling a bit shakily as she drew back. She was a widow, and Annette her only child. 

"You know where to find me. Don't hesitate to call if you need anything, okay?" 

"Thank you. If all of the police cared as much as you did, a lot of things would be different," she concluded, squeezing Jim's hand and then moving away toward the door of the court room. 

While the little victory party dispersed, and Jim and Blair slid into their coats, Fuller approached them, all smiles and hand extended. 

"No hard feelings I hope. Just doing our jobs, right?" He watched Jim's face, which might as well have been carved in stone as he stared contemptuously at the lawyer's offered hand. 

"Your treatment of crime victims is nothing short of an aberration and a disgrace to your profession, and a flashy smokescreen for your own lack of skill as an attorney. Now, if you'll excuse me," Jim started for the door and Blair was right behind him. 

Grabbing Blair's hand, Jim pulled the younger man behind him through the crowd of reporters that clogged the courthouse hall. The press waiting at the foot of the courthouse steps were only marginally more polite, but at least they didn't "rush" the people exiting the building until they reached the bottom of the steps. Fuller had somehow managed to get out there first, grandstanding and vowing to appeal the ridiculous convictions against his client. Beverly was actually drawing a slightly larger crowd, accepting her moment in the sun at having successfully prosecuted one of Cascade's biggest organized crime cases. 

"It's over," Blair said quietly, his hand still held tightly in Jim's. A few reporters were trickling upward toward the two men, knowing that Jim had been involved in the operation, a few possibly remembering the assault case involving Blair that had put two Vice cops behind bars and a third six feet under. 

Jim glanced at all the press hoopla, at the two attorneys with their respective clusters of attentive reporters, and then at the man who had stood by him through a hellish ten months without ever once wavering in his devotion or his loyalty. The same man who had stood alone in the park and watched enviously while other lovers openly expressed their affection. 

Turning toward Blair, Jim slid his arms around the younger man's middle, Blair's arms automatically going around Jim's neck. Lifting his lover a couple inches off the ground, Jim captured Blair's startled mouth in a prolonged kiss. The only reason he didn't smile as a few cameras captured the moment was because his lips were busy doing something a lot more enjoyable than smiling. When he drew back from the kiss, he kept Blair trapped in a crushing hug, then finally let him back down on his own two feet. 

"The trial's over, sweetheart, but we're just getting started," Jim said, grinning down at Blair's awestruck expression, and his all-too-desi rable kiss-reddened lips. "One of these days, baby, we're going to come out on these steps after we get legally married. It'll happen in time, and I don't care if I'm 90 years old and you have to wheel me up the ramp over there, we're going to show up and take advantage of it." 

"Jim, the press--they've got pictures!" Blair protested. 

"I figure they probably do. But just in case a few of them were listening to Beverly and Fuller and missed the photo op," Jim replied, grabbing Blair again and claiming his mouth in a kiss that seemed even hotter than the first. "Let's go home and plan our honeymoon, sweetheart." Jim flopped an arm over Blair's shoulders, and the younger man's arm slid around his back. 

There was a flurry of questions from the crowd of reporters they passed through, and Jim finally stopped and turned to issue a single statement. 

"This is Blair Sandburg, my life partner, the love of my life, and my best friend. I hope the next time you run into us on the steps here, it's because they just legalized same-sex marriage in Washington State, and we were the first couple to take advantage of it." Squeezing Blair's shoulders, Jim started them on their way down the sidewalk to the truck, Blair's head resting on his shoulder. 

Continued in part eight.


	8. Chapter 8

Due to the length of this story, it's been split into nine parts for easier loading.

## The Secret Life of J.J. Rush

by Candy Apple

Continued from part seven.

* * *

**THE SECRET LIFE OF J.J. RUSH - part eight**

by 

Candy Apple 

"There's always Hawaii," Blair said, looking over one of the brochures as he sat cross-legged on the bed, bundled up in a warm robe, sipping a glass of wine. 

"How about Acapulco?" Jim handed him a different brochure. "Dan and his wife went there last year--they said it was beautiful." 

"That's a thought. Warm temperatures would be kind of nice right about now." 

"I suppose you want me to scrap the Aspen brochure?" 

"I am _not_ going downhill skiing. Not in this lifetime, man." Blair shook his head, laughing. 

"You've jumped out of a plane before. How scary can skiing be?" 

"I jumped out of plane because my options were kinda limited if I wanted to go with you. I don't have any plans to voluntarily hurtle towards death or serious injury." 

"Okay," Jim replied, laughing. "No Aspen." He tossed the brochure aside. "Acapulco?" 

"Yeah, I like that idea." 

"What's wrong?" 

"Jim, you do know they're going to print a photo of us kissing in some newspaper." 

"And?" Jim picked up the Acapulco brochure again, thumbing through it. 

"You can't be _that_ casual about it, man." 

"I _am_ that casual about it, Chief. We're out, and we have been for a while. But I haven't exactly shouted it from the rooftops, and we don't do a lot of the things other lovers do when we're out in public. I know that's not easy for you. Hell, it's not easy for me either. I guess it was the rebel in me kicking up his heels a bit." 

"Wonder what Simon'll have to say?" Blair scooted up on the bed and tossed his robe aside, climbing under the covers and sitting propped up next to Jim. 

"Plenty, I imagine." Jim rolled his eyes a bit. "We already have a tenuous situation on our hands, the chief isn't going to be happy and we're just opening ourselves up for more harassment." Jim went back to perusing the brochure. Blair was already hauling his laptop onto his lap. "I don't believe you brought that to bed." 

"I want to surf the 'net for stuff on Acapulco." 

"It's warm, it has beaches and some nice hotels. We don't need to know more than that." 

"I do. I'm a researcher, Jim. _I_ need to know more," Blair said, smiling slightly. 

"Okay, Einstein. See what you come up with." Jim tossed the brochure aside and fumbled for the remote control, which was buried partially under Blair's butt. "Your butt's on the remote." 

"So move it." 

"I'm trying. Move your ass, sweetheart." 

"That usually has a lot sexier meaning," Blair grumbled, rolling to one side so Jim could capture his treasure. The TV in the bedroom was a mixed blessing at times. 

"I thought we could catch the news. See if we're on it." 

"Oh, man. You don't think the TV guys caught that on film?" 

"If they didn't, they ought to be unemployed TV guys tomorrow." Jim settled back against the pillows while Blair worked on his search for information on Acapulco. 

"Oh, man! Take a look at this." 

"Blair, hang on a minute." 

"No, forget that. It's just an update on that woman who chained herself to the doors of the mayor's house." 

"Why'd she do that? Wonder why we didn't hear about it." 

"I don't remember. We'll find out tomorrow at work anyway." 

"Then I need to see the story, don't I?" 

"Fine. Watch the news. I won't tell you about this resort I found, or about the footbridge they had to close because of all the brightly colored exotic birds who took over the spot." 

Curiosity piqued, Jim gave up on the news and looked over Blair's shoulder at the small screen. The TV droned on, forgotten, as the two men explored Acapulco on Blair's laptop. 

* * *

Blair took the afternoon off from the PD to implement his plans for Valentine's Day. With a fire in the fireplace, the loft lit only by strategically placed candles, and soft music on the stereo, the Cornish hens were progressing nicely in the oven, Blair turned his attentions to setting he table as elegantly as it would be in any fine restaurant, complete with linen tablecloth, candles and the "good dishes". A chilled bottle of wine waited in an ice bucket on the end of the counter. 

Dowsing the last bright light in the kitchen, Blair hurried upstairs and changed into a pair of tight black jeans and a red silk shirt. He picked up the package that was Jim's gift and returned downstairs, placing the red foil-wrapped shirt-sized box on the loveseat. Satisfied that everything was on schedule in the kitchen, and up to his standards in terms of dancing candlelight and soft music, Blair finally sat down to share the loveseat with Jim's gift. Not ten minutes later, the key turned in the lock, and Jim walked in, smiling immediately at the beautiful setting, and his equally beautiful lover. Blair spotted the wrapped package in Jim's hand. 

"Everything looks beautiful, sweetheart," Jim said as he shrugged out of his coat and hung it up, then pulled Blair into his arms. "Dinner smells great." Jim swooped in to nuzzle Blair's neck. "So do you," he mumbled into the soft curls Blair had left hanging loose on his shoulders. 

"Dinner first, me later," Blair backed away a little, smiling. "I don't want to mess up those birds." 

"I'll grab a quick shower and change." Jim dropped a kiss on Blair's forehead and headed toward the stairs. 

"You don't have to go up there. I...I laid out some clothes for you in the bathroom. I hope you don't mind." 

"Why would I mind?" 

"I picked out what I'd like to see you in." 

"Good." He stopped by Blair long enough to kiss his lips quickly, then headed for the bathroom. 

Closing the bathroom door, Jim smiled at Blair's choices. There was a blue silk shirt Blair had bought for him in a frenzy of excitement one day because he was convinced it was the only one he'd ever found that truly matched Jim's eyes. Beneath the shirt, neatly folded, were a pair of faded jeans that Jim knew fit every line of his physique like a glove. 

After showering and dressing in the clothes Blair had chosen, Jim walked back into the hallway, swept away by the atmosphere. A love song played on the stereo, the dancing light of the candles making the loft almost surreal as it conspired with the delicate strains of music. Blair stood in the living room, and Jim moved toward him without hesitation, taking his lover in his arms and swaying slowly to the music. 

//Winter snow is falling down,  
Children laughing all around,  
Lights are turning on  
Like a fairy tale come true.  
Sitting by the fire we made,  
You're the answer when I prayed  
I would find someone  
And, baby, I found you. 

And all I want is to hold you forever,  
All I need is you more everyday,  
You saved my heart  
From being broken apart,  
You gave your love away,  
And I'm thankful everyday  
For the gift. 

Watching as you softly sleep,  
What I'd give if I could keep  
Just this moment,  
If only time stood still,  
But the colors fade away,  
And the years will make us gray,  
But, baby, in my eyes  
You'll still be beautiful. 

And all I want is to hold you forever,  
All I need is you more everyday,  
You saved my heart  
From being broken apart,  
You gave your love away,  
I can't find the words to say,  
I'm thankful everyday  
For the gift.// 

Blair pulled back and looked into Jim's eyes. 

"You're my gift, lover. And I'm thankful everyday I have you." 

"I'd say you were the answer to my prayers," came the husky reply, "but I never had the audacity to pray for something as wonderful as what we have. For someone as special as you." 

"Happy Valentine's Day, mine." 

"Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart." Jim leaned forward and joined Blair in a gentle kiss which grew more passionate as their arms slid around each other again, holding on tightly. 

"Look at us," Blair said, smiling a little as he pulled back, brushing at tears, mirroring Jim's own self-conscious gesture. 

"Turning into a couple of sentimental old married people, I guess," Jim replied, smiling back and kissing Blair's forehead. 

"How about dinner?" 

"I'm starved," Jim admitted, laughing a little. "So what is all this?" Jim asked as he followed Blair into the kitchen. The younger man smiled, knowing Jim had not only already cataloged every scent, but could probably tell him where he bought the Cornish hens, what seasonings he'd used to cook them, every ingredient that was in the dressing he'd made and how long it had all been baking. Still, Blair enjoyed the indulgence of being able to present the whole thing, and appreciated Jim playing dumb for once. 

"Cornish hens," Blair began, lifting the pan out of the oven, then retrieving the dressing that went with them. "I was going to stuff them, but there's something kind of gross about having the dressing stuck all over everything, so I did it separately. There's french bread on the table, and it looks like," Blair checked under the lid of the pan on the stove, "the mixed veggies are almost done. Oh, yeah, and there's dessert." 

"Which is?" 

"You'll find out after dinner." 

"Looks beautiful, Chief. You really knocked yourself out on this one." 

"Yeah, well, since that day of fooling around fell through and you had to work, I figured it was the least I could do with my day off," Blair responded, scooping the vegetables into a dish which Jim carried to the table. "You owe me lasagna this weekend, though." 

"You know I hate making that, Chief." Jim poured the wine. 

"Yeah, but you're so good at it. Come on, Jim." 

"How about spaghetti?" Jim offered, coming back to get the dish of dressing and the sauteed small potatoes which had been dusted with parsley. 

"Jim." 

"Okay, lasagna it is," Jim agreed reluctantly. 

"I'll make it worth your while," Blair responded in a decidedly seductive tone as he served the hens and joined Jim at the table. 

"You usually do, baby," Jim said, grabbing hold of Blair's hand and kissing it before it completed its journey to the serving platter to divvy up the goodies. 

The two men ate leisurely, then sipped their wine a while and talked about their upcoming trip to Acapulco. Finally, they cleared away the dinner dishes, Jim happy to leave them in the sink to turn his attention to his lover and the promised mystery dessert. Blair directed him back to the table, ordering Jim to keep his eyes on the living room, and not cheat until he'd made it back to the table. 

Jim could smell fresh strawberries, and something else sweet, but he couldn't quite place it. It didn't seem like whipped cream, which was his first assumption. Moments later, the mystery was solved. Blair set an ornate stemmed dessert glass in front of Jim. It was filled with a carefully crafted swirl of white chocolate mousse, and at the base of the little peak were two hearts, cut from fresh strawberries, their edges overlapping slightly. 

"Wow," Jim commented softly, not pleased with his lack of a more profound reply. 

"I hope you like white chocolate." Blair set his own dessert down and sat down again. 

"It looks beautiful, baby. This whole night...the music, the dinner, the candles...it's perfect." Jim dipped one of the strawberries in the sweet mousse and held it close to Blair's lips. Blair's tongue snaked out to lick the mousse off the fruit first, surreptitiously running along Jim's finger more than once. When the strawberry had been thoroughly cleaned, Blair engulfed it in his mouth, lingering to lightly suck at the tip of Jim's finger. 

Withdrawing his finger, Jim leaned in to share the strawberry in his lover's mouth, kissing him thoroughly and letting his tongue roam inside the velvet warmth, tasting the tang of the strawberry mixed with the taste of Blair's mouth. When they finally pulled back for air, Jim took a bite of the white chocolate mousse and then kissed Blair again, sharing the mouthful with him. 

"I don't think I'm gonna last through two servings," Blair gasped as they separated again. Jim just laughed. 

"You're right, sweetheart. If we keep going like this, I'm going to skip the dessert and eat you alive." 

"Promises, promises," Blair replied, smiling. 

"I love you." Jim reached for Blair's hand, and they sat there a moment, their joined hands leading down to elbows on the table, almost as if they were about to arm-wrestle. Jim pulled Blair's hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it. "Do you remember the name of that nurse that sent you my name--remember how you first found out about me?" 

"I remember every detail," Blair replied softly. "You had the bluest eyes I'd ever seen, and I thought you were absolutely...stunning." 

"I meant did you remember the girl, sweetheart." 

"What girl?" Blair asked, smiling and stroking Jim's hand with his free one. 

"The nurse." 

"Oh, her. Wendy Olson. Why?" 

"I just got to thinking that I ought to send Wendy a thank you note one of these days. If she hadn't faxed my files, against every rule in the book, we wouldn't be together right now." 

"Since Wendy was sort of a girlfriend at the time, she'd probably be a little annoyed with that," Blair responded, laughing. 

"Sometimes it's scary how small a circumstance was the difference between us meeting and never knowing about each other." 

"We were meant to be, Jim. We'd have happened one way or another. I believe that with all my heart." 

"Thinking about what would have happened if you hadn't shown up...I was losing my mind, Blair. I would have never held it together without you." 

"I have a lot of faith in you, lover. You would have figured something out." 

"I probably would have been roadkill by now, pasted to the pavement by a garbage truck," Jim declared, laughing a little. 

"Thanks for that mental image with dessert. You trying to kill my appetite?" 

"Just the one that centers on food." 

"You know, if I finish this mousse, I could get a sugar rush, and I might be good to go all night." 

"Eat up, Chief," Jim directed, releasing his lover's hand. 

"Ever the romantic," Blair chided, laughing and digging into his dessert in earnest. 

From dessert, they moved back to the living room, deciding that the romantic music on the CD player really called for a little more slow dancing. And tonight was to be a night of romance--the passion would wait, and would be that much more intense for the delay. 

Finally, no longer able to limit their contact to the swaying of clothed bodies, Jim slid his hands into Blair's hair and kissed him, then pulled back and rested their foreheads together, his hands still tangled in the mass of curls. Blair smiled and nodded. They broke apart for a moment to blow out the candles that had kept the loft aglow through their evening. Joining hands, they made their way upstairs. 

Jim's breath caught in his throat at the sight of their bedroom. The usual bedding had been replaced by white satin sheets and a red satin comforter, candles glowed from candelabra on the dresser. Champagne waited in an ice bucket on the nightstand. 

"Wow," Jim murmured. 

"That's why I didn't want you to come up earlier." 

"Blair...this is...beautiful." 

"You like it?" 

"Sweetheart, if I could be with you tonight, I'd like a sleeping bag at the rescue mission. But this--this is...like a fantasy." 

"You're my fantasy come true, Jim. I couldn't set up a bedroom fancy enough so you'd know what it means to me to have you." 

Blair's answer came in a kiss, and in the brush of gentle but hurried fingers as they worked to open his shirt, slide it off his shoulders, and begin their efforts on his pants as he made short work of Jim's shirt buttons. 

When clothing finally fell away, Jim swooped his lover up in his arms, pausing to kiss him again before lowering him on the satin sheets, then sliding into the decadent sensation himself, snuggling with Blair under the comforter. The slide of the satin against his skin and the movement of Blair's own soft skin with its dusting of hair against Jim's body was a sensuous overload. 

With a strangled moan, Jim worshiped Blair's body with his lips and tongue, sweetly tormenting nipples to hardness, tasting the sweet flesh that was his alone to explore. When it was finally time to grope around the nightstand for the lube, Jim seized it and turned back to find Blair had shifted onto his side, and was drawing his knees up, ready for Jim. 

"I've wanted to be inside you all day, angel," Jim murmured against Blair's ear. 

"I love you, babe. I want you in there." 

Jim took his time preparing Blair, more time than he really needed. The music, the candlelight, the elegance of the bedroom, the romance of their evening...it all demanded that nothing be rushed. When he finally coated himself, he slid carefully inside his lover's body, wrapping himself around Blair, burying his nose in the fragrant curls, letting the love and completion he felt fill his heart to its limits and overflow. 

Their movements were slow and gentle, mixed with little moans, kisses and words of love. When they came, they came together with mingled cries of each other's names. Blair finally shifted in Jim's arms until they were face to face, sharing kisses in the sated afterglow. 

* * *

Blair wasn't sure when he'd dozed off, but when he opened his eyes, Jim was sitting on the bed in his robe, smiling at his lover. 

"Guess I didn't exactly go all night, did I?" Blair asked, smiling a little guiltily as he noticed that it was almost three in the morning. He'd been asleep for hours. 

"We've still got a little matter of gifts to deal with here, Chief," Jim stated seriously, setting the two boxes he'd retrieved from downstairs on the bed. "Maybe this'll wake you up a little." Jim handed Blair a glass of champagne as the younger man sat up in the bed. "Put this on, sweetheart." Jim swung Blair's robe around his lover's back and held it while Blair slipped each arm in the sleeves. 

"Sorry I died on you like that." 

"What's good sex without a good nap? I just woke up a half hour ago myself." Jim picked up his champagne glass and clinked it against Blair's. "So, about these presents..." 

"Do you want to go first?" Blair asked. 

"Nope. You." Jim handed him the box, which was about the right size for a small shirt box, but way too heavy to contain clothing. 

Blair carefully opened the red and white heart paper that covered the stiff white box. He tossed the paper aside and removed the lid, then folded back the red tissue paper inside to reveal what appeared to be a two-sided 8x10 picture frame. He opened the frame, which was a contemporary silver with gold accents. On one side was a photo taken by one of the photographers on the courthouse steps the day of the Bernardi verdict, with Jim and Blair in the heat of their public liplock. On the other side, printed in an ornate calligraphy, was a short verse: 
    
    
         You were the dream that saved my life,
         You were the reason I survived...
         I never thought that I could love
         Someone as much as I love you,
         I know it's crazy, but it's true,
         I never thought that I could need
         Someone as much as I need you,
         I love you...
    

Happy Valentine's Day, Blair 

All my love, Jim 

"I tried to come up with something original, but I'm not really a poet, so I ended up stealing the lyrics from an old Dan Hill cassette I found a week or so ago when I was going through some old stuff I had stored downstairs. It said everything so much better than I seem to be able to say it." Jim watched Blair, who had stared at the gift in silence since he opened it. In a move that was lightning fast, the younger man laid the gift aside and flung himself into Jim's arms, squeezing the larger man's neck in a frantic embrace. "Does that mean you like it?" Jim asked, smiling a little at his lover's reaction. 

"I love it," Blair managed in a broken voice, then gave in to a few tears. "It's beautiful." 

"We're going to have that legal marriage someday, Blair. I promise you that." 

"I love you so much I can't stand it sometimes." 

"Me too, baby. Me too." Jim gave Blair a last squeeze and patted his back before pulling away a little. 

"My present's pretty drab compared to this." Blair was still wiping at tears and sniffling, picking his treasured gift back up and examining it again. 

"Hey, don't slam my present until I open it," Jim said, feigning a defensive tone in his voice. 

"Jim, this is so...special. You can't know what this means to me." 

"Yeah, I think I do, sweetheart." Jim reached over and caressed a few rumpled curls. Then he turned his attention to his own package and after stripping away the paper, opened the large, flat box. He lifted out a heavy, dark blue sweater. A little surprised at the ordinary nature of the gift from his unconventional lover, he still smiled at it and had to admit to himself that he liked it and would probably wear it often. 

"I made it," Blair said quietly. 

"What?" Jim looked up, stunned. 

"I feel stupid," Blair responded, laughing a little. "You probably think I'm a real dork--knitting a sweater. I still can't believe I did it myself," Blair concluded, blushing the color of the red comforter. 

"It's beautiful, Blair. How...did you know how to knit before you did this?" 

"Hell no. Do I look like a guy who would know how to knit? On second thought, don't answer that." 

"I mean, it's really beautiful, Chief--it's not all deformed like a first attempt usually is. I can actually _wear_ this." 

"I wanted to make you something, and aside from some kind of beaded necklace, which I really didn't picture being a big hit, I didn't know what else to do. I made this while...while you were gone last year. Well, actually, Ruth downstairs taught me how to do it, and I knitted the parts and she put them together to make the sweater." Blair referred to the elderly Mrs. Benjamin, who lived with her husband in their building. "I was going to give it to you when you got home, but then it was hot weather...and this just seemed like the right time." 

"Blair...I don't know what to say..." 

"You don't have to wear it if--" 

"This is the most special, beautiful thing anyone ever gave me. In my entire life, no one has ever put this kind of time into something to give me." 

"Yeah, and I had to do the left sleeve twice because my gauge was off or something. Anyway, you'd have had to wear it rolled up all the time so she made me do it over before she'd finish sewing it together," Blair recalled, laughing. "She was a really tough task master." Blair was surprised to see Jim staring at the sweater, his jaw going into overdrive. "I was down there once, a couple days after you left--you know, I went grocery shopping and I picked up their stuff at the same time and when I went to drop it off, she was just putting together this really beautiful sweater she had made for Isaac, and I was _so_ jealous of her being able to make something that special for the person she loved...I wanted to do it too." 

"Next to you, this sweater is probably the most precious thing in the world to me," Jim said in a quiet, strained voice. "I love you, Blair," Jim added, leaning over to gently kiss his lover. Then he turned his attention back to the sweater. "I still can't believe you did all this. It must have taken forever." 

"It was work on chapter five of the dissertation or knit. I chose knitting." Blair grinned, then added, "I had to have a project to keep me sane. Doing something for you...you know, by working on the sweater, with every spare minute...helped a little." A sadness fell over Blair's features, and Jim noticed it immediately. 

"What is it, baby?" He reached up and caressed Blair's cheek. 

"I was so scared you weren't going to come home to ever wear it. You know, Jim, it wasn't the separation that made me so crazy--I mean, that hurt like hell, like having my heart cut out--but it was the feeling of...of foreboding, and the nightmares...always the panther in the trap, and it seemed like his howls got worse and worse as the nights passed...I was so sure something terrible was going to happen. I just don't want you to think that I'm trying to put chains on you, Jim. I know sometimes you need to get away, have time to yourself--I'm not trying to stop you from that." 

"Time by myself is very overrated when you're sitting back here at home wearing nothing but a robe and a smile, Chief." Jim cradled the back of Blair's head and kissed his forehead. "And I understand why things went down the way they did last year." 

"I love you so much." Blair moved over to Jim and wrapped his arms around his lover's neck, and the strong arms came up in response as they always did, holding him tightly. 

"So, I guess this means we have to buy our own Speedos for Acapulco, huh?" 

"If you go out on a public beach, you're wearing that sweater," Blair announced, moving back a bit, still leaving his arms loosely around Jim's neck. 

"I am, huh?" Jim laughed, thoroughly enjoying Blair's possessiveness and rare flash of jealousy. 

"And jeans. And boots. And a ski mask." 

"You're not going on a public beach at all, Chief. End of story. I'm not taking any chances. I'd hate to have to kill someone on our vacation." 

"Oooh, I guess you win the jealousy war, man," Blair responded, laughing. 

"You really think you're going to want to go to a public beach? We're going to have our own villa (kiss), our own pool (kiss), a king sized bed," Jim concluded, tightening his arms around Blair. 

"We have to buy some souvenirs for everybody." 

"Okay, souvenir shopping." 

"And sight-seeing. I want to take pictures." 

"I can deal with that." 

"Maybe one day at the beach?" 

"You can have anything you want on this trip, angel. Anything at all." 

"Just you with me all the time." 

"You got that without asking." 

"Then I don't need anything else. In Acapulco or Cascade...or anywhere." Blair nestled against Jim as the large arms enfolded him again. 

* * *

"How much did you say this place cost?" Blair asked as Jim closed the door behind the resort employee who had driven them from the main hotel to their private bungalow. 

"I didn't." Jim followed his lover to the wall of windows overlooking the bungalow's private pool, surrounded by a variety of lush tropical plants, some bearing colorful flowers. Hibiscus blossoms floated on the still water of the pool. Beyond their private hideaway, the could see the sun setting over the Acapulco Bay from the hillside on which the resort and its outlying bungalows were located. 

"This is like paradise," Blair commented, sliding open the glass and stepping out on the patio. The mild breeze toyed with a few stray curls that were escaping the hairband, and billowed the loose white cotton shirt that was barely tucked in to his white pants. 

"This _is_ paradise," Jim corrected, sliding his arms around his lover from behind, taking in the scent of the ocean breeze, the tropical plants, and Blair. He closed his eyes and rested his head against Blair's. "I ordered dinner brought to us here tonight. I hope that's okay with you. I know you want to check out the Acapulco nightlife." 

"We've got ten whole days, Jim." 

"Eight full ones, actually." 

"I don't care. I'm counting today and the day we leave. It's all part of our honeymoon." 

"You can stop counting those, Chief. Everyday's part of that for me." 

"Have I mentioned lately that I love you?" 

"It's probably been a couple hours. I was starting to doubt you." 

"Really?" Blair retorted, laughing. 

"Hey, a man's ego is a fragile thing, Chief," Jim replied, smiling as he held Blair and opened his eyes, and his enhanced vision, to take in the scenery. 

"What do you see?" Blair asked. 

"I see the little ripples on the water, the colors of the sunset reflected against it, a couple of small boats..." Jim broke off, chortling. 

"What?" 

"Well, I don't think the couple on that one boat expected to have me doing a sentinel-scan of the bay just now." 

"You mean they were...?" 

"Right on deck." 

"Whoa. Gives a whole new meaning to 'all hands on deck', doesn't it?" 

"Or the phrase 'drop anchor'." 

"Think we ought to take a nap before dinner?" Blair turned in Jim's arms so they were facing each other. Jim freed one hand to push the wispy loose curls away from Blair's eyes. 

"I love you." 

"I love you too." 

"I think a nap sounds like a great idea. It was a long flight." 

"The layover and cancellation didn't help. We should have been here three hours ago." 

"Shit happens," Jim responded, shrugging as they separated and made their way back into the sitting room, and then, picking up their bags, entered the bedroom. "Wow," Jim commented. 

A king-sized white metal canopy bed sported filmy white fabric draped over its framework, surrounding a mound of fluffy white bedclothes. Another wall of windows overlooked the bay. 

Jim moved over to the windows and slid one open, letting the sound and scent of the ocean flow into the room. The thin, collarless white shirt he wore with his tan pants hit the nearest chair first, with Blair taking the cue and pitching his own clothes in a heap with his lover's. Stripped to boxers, they turned back the large bed and crawled in, letting out a shared sigh of relief. The Cascade airport had been hectic, with a last minute time change for the flight, then their connecting flight was late at the next stop over. Acapulco International hadn't been too bad, but there were still hordes of tourists, a lot of noise, and a good number of very vocal children. Jim's heightened senses had felt like they were on overload, and the peace of the ocean sounds and Blair's heartbeat were just what he needed to focus on to relax. 

"I didn't know how tired I was," Blair commented, shifting around so the two men were on their sides, their faces inches apart as they maneuvered the pillows around until they shared one comfortably. 

"I did," Jim replied, laughing a little. "Must be old age catching up with me." 

"You're not old," Blair replied, a little defensively. "You're perfect." 

"I am?" 

"Uh-huh. Perfect for me." Blair made the minimal effort to rub noses with Jim, then closed his eyes. Neither man rallied until the waiter knocked on the door of the bungalow with dinner. 

* * *

Blair had taken a few laps around the pool, and now he was content to sway in the hammock in the shade and watch Jim make full use of the water. Jim was a strong, enthusiastic swimmer, and he didn't get much chance to indulge in that sport in Cascade. 

Blair sipped at the tropical fruit drink he had been nursing along for the better part of an hour, then set it on the nearby table and closed his eyes, letting the warm breeze dance over his skin. He wondered how long it would be before Jim came up for air long enough to notice that he had dispensed with his soaked swimming trunks and was lying in the hammock by their private pool stark naked. Truthfully, he had been enjoying the relaxation, the complete hedonistic pleasure of lying naked in the shade, his cock happily dozing with him and not inordinately interested in much beyond experiencing the fresh air. 

Jim finally came up out of the pool, thoroughly invigorated if not a little tired, from his prolonged stint of swimming. He knew Blair was napping in the hammock. He had kept one ear tuned to his lover's heartbeat even while submerged. He was totally unprepared for the sight of a completely nude Blair sleeping in the shade of the trees that supported the hammock. He thought of the dozens of nasty stunts he might have pulled on one of his "buddies" he caught sleeping pool side. It was odd, but he had never really enjoyed pulling tricks on Blair, even before they became lovers. He had felt protective of the other man almost immediately, and the thought of doing anything that upset him or made him feel threatened, even for a moment, had never appealed to him. 

Leaning over the oblivious man in the hammock, he began slowly kissing the sleeping lips, feeling a smile curve them slightly before they opened in response, tongues meeting and sliding together. 

"Hey there, sleeping beauty." 

"How long have I been out?" Blair replied lazily, rubbing at his eyes. 

"Not long. I've been keeping an ear on you," Jim replied, letting his hand trail lightly over Blair's thigh. He grinned as the languid cock stirred a bit, the speed of its movements not unlike Blair's own sleepy response. "You want to sleep a while?" 

"In the immortal words of Bon Jovi, 'I'll sleep when I'm dead.'" Blair gave Jim's water-soaked body a decidedly lustful once-over with his eyes. As Jim stood there in soaked trunks, water beading and glistening on the long, muscular legs and the smooth, perfectly sculpted torso, while eyes whose color rivaled the sparkling blue of the water locked with Blair's, the younger man quickly abandoned any languid thoughts of napping. Noticing Blair's arousal, Jim slid his arms under his lover's body and pulled him out of the hammock, heading for the patio door as Blair's arms came around Jim's neck. 

Depositing Blair on the white bedding still rumpled from their morning lovemaking, Jim stripped off the wet shorts and lowered himself to blanket the smaller man's body. 

"You're wet," Blair observed, somewhat breathless. 

"Your powers of observation are sharp as ever, Chief," Jim replied, enclosing Blair in his arms and nibbling at his lover's throat. 

"What about the bed?" 

"That's what fresh sheets are for." 

"We told the hotel not to send housekeeping out here today, remember?" 

"So we'll call them back to fix things up while we're at dinner." Jim pulled back and smiled lovingly at Blair's somewhat unnerved expression. "You don't think they know what we're doing in here all day without being told?" Jim sighed, then kissed Blair's lips again, gently. "I'm not ashamed of us, and I'm certainly not ashamed of the fact that we messed up the bed making love. Furthermore, that's none of their business. Quite frankly, for what this place charges per day, they ought to send someone out with wet cloths to wash us up when we're done." 

"Oh, man," Blair responded, laughing. 

"So can we forget about the sheets?" 

"What sheets?" Blair replied, pulling Jim down for another prolonged round of kissing. Blair tore his mouth away and let out a moan when Jim's hand found the younger man's balls, rolling them gently and massaging them while the newly freed mouth slid down to clamp on Blair's neck. 

"I love you, you naked little tease," Jim growled into Blair's ear. 

"Guess I have to pay up now, huh?" 

"Can't put the merchandise out there like that and then hold back, baby." Jim smiled as he kissed and nibbled his way from Blair's shoulder, across his upper chest, then found a hardening nipple to torment with his lips, tongue and slightly with his teeth. His hand still rolled and massaged the velvety sacs. 

"Maybe you should teach me a lesson about teasing you like that," Blair suggested, his sultry tone only slightly undermined by his breathlessness. 

"I could just leave you here like this," Jim teased back, smiling a little wickedly at Blair's horrified expression. "Gotcha." With that, he swooped down on Blair's hardened length, sucking it into his mouth. Blair let out a wail of pleasure, legs spreading, breath coming out in harsh gasps. It only took a short time for Blair to reach his climax and spurt his completion into his lover's waiting throat. When Jim finally rose from his task, he claimed Blair's mouth in a fiery kiss, letting him taste himself in Jim's mouth. 

"But you wouldn't do a thing like that, right?" Blair panted, smiling up at Jim. 

"Never." Jim moved aside and reached into the night stand drawer for the lube. Blair rolled on his stomach, relaxed, sated and content. He only troubled himself to move long enough for Jim to tuck two pillows under his stomach and one under his chest to make the angle comfortable. Adjusting himself to the new position, he spread his legs again. 

Jim moved into position behind him, wishing his throbbing arousal would have allowed him more time to admire the view of the smooth bare back, the curve of the spine and the swell of the two perfect globes that protected the little opening that was his alone to explore and possess. 

His alone. Virgin territory except for Jim. No one else had seen Blair exposed this way...no one else had probed his little hole and stretched it possessed it... Unbidden memories came washing over Jim's psyche like a putrid, oozing slime. Not only did he feel any signs of his own considerable arousal fizzling, but the thought of entering Blair that way seemed impossibly brutal. 

"Jim?" Blair raised up on his elbows and looked over his shoulder. "What's wrong, babe?" 

"I can't." Jim tossed the lube aside and got off the bed, grabbing his robe and heading for the patio where he dropped into a chair and stared out at the lush scenery. Within seconds, a robed Blair joined him, setting a cold glass of orange juice on the little table between the chairs. He took a seat in the other patio chair, not saying anything for several long seconds. 

"Bad memories?" Blair finally asked. 

"Yeah. Like I haven't had in months. It was so...vivid...sharp--like it used to be when I couldn't...when I couldn't get it up to fuck you," Jim concluded in a frustrated tone. Blair didn't take offense at the phraseology. It was Jim's anger and self-loathing that were making him crude, not his feelings about their lovemaking. 

"Any thoughts on what triggered it?" 

"I don't know. Dammit, Blair, I thought I was over this." 

"Jack said you never really 'get over' something like that--you learn to live with it and get on with your life, but it doesn't go away. It doesn't end." 

"Everything's been normal between us for a long time. Reciprocal even. You weren't even trying to top me when I lost it." 

"I haven't really been a passive participant since the rape. Maybe that was it. I never even thought about it when I did it, but with my arms and legs spread out that way--" 

"The position was too fucking similar to...to what they did with me," Jim finished the sentence, then ran a hand over his face, and took another drink of the juice. 

"I wasn't moving around, participating. I was just lying there. Maybe that's what did it. What triggered it." 

"That still means I'm not normal sexually. It's not like I was planning on being rough or anything. I just got thinking that I was the only person who ever saw you like that--who ever touched you there." 

"Jim," Blair began, setting his drink aside and moving to the other chair to sit on Jim's lap, "what happened to you had nothing to do with sex, or consent, or offering yourself. It had to do with an act of brutality--it was just another method of torture for those bastards." Blair hesitated. 

"You want to ask me something else, sweetheart?" 

"Do you think any of them got off on it?" 

"I didn't smell anybody's else's come, if that's what you're asking." 

"I didn't know exactly how to phrase it." 

"In the rare moments when I could think, I wanted to know if they were getting off on it. If they were enjoying themselves--maybe find some reason why they were doing it. I didn't smell it. I smelled maybe one guy's arousal. Some people get worked up at the sight of anybody else's naked ass, I guess." 

"This is going to sound like a real bizarre analogy, but stick with me, okay?" 

"I usually do," Jim responded, kissing Blair's cheek. 

"Does it bother you that I have an annual physical?" 

"Why would it?" 

"Does it make you feel uneasy?" 

"It would make me feel uneasy if you didn't." 

"Jim, part of a doctor's exam is checking your testicles and your prostate. My doctor doesn't get off on touching me that way, but he still does it, every year. It serves a purpose. That doesn't make us less exclusive or count as my 'offering myself' to someone else because the same touches that would be erotic in the right setting are just a means to an end in that setting. Believe me, they are _so_ not erotic in _that_ setting," Blair concluded, shaking his head a little. "What I'm driving at is that when those bastards attacked you, touching you there, that way, was just a means to an end. It wasn't erotic, it wasn't sexual, it sure as hell had nothing to do with lovemaking. It was as goal-oriented and impersonal as a physical, only its purpose was to inflict pain, not to evaluate health. That doesn't minimize the anguish it caused you, but it also doesn't make us any less exclusive than we were before it happened. It doesn't make you 'used merchandise' or reflect on the fact that you never _offered yourself_ to anyone but me. You never liked it with anyone but me." 

"I guess I can't put it in the league with my annual physical. I didn't freak out and run out of the doctor's office. I dealt with it." 

"I know you did. And I'm never saying it _is_ in the league with your annual physical. I'm saying that just the physical act of someone touching you there doesn't mean it's not my exclusive privilege anymore to touch you _sexually_ there. To...to _pleasure_ you that way." 

"So it doesn't ever occur to you when things are reversed that you're moving into used territory?" 

"Never. It occurs to me sometimes that you were hurt that way, that I want to make it extra good for you because of what happened...so good that you'll only feel the good feelings associated with making love. Most of the time it just occurs to me that I love you with all my heart, forever, and that we're making love. Well, and generally speaking, the fact I'm usually looking forward to getting some figures into it too," Blair added, grinning, and Jim laughed out loud, hugging him. 

"That's my Blair." 

"Why don't we get dressed and go out for a really nice dinner, huh? I hear the hotel restaurant here is really beautiful." 

"Maybe a moonlight walk on the beach?" 

"Sounds perfect." 

"Blair, I'm sorry about earlier. About getting you ready and just leaving you there." 

"I came so hard a little while ago that I think I used up the supply for today. Don't worry about it. We can fool around later if you want to. If not, we can just get a good night's sleep before we make the drive to Taxco tomorrow. We've got lots of sightseeing to do there." 

"And reservations at that Inn." 

"Can we afford this? I mean, with me taking the semester off and everything--" 

"We can afford it, baby. Don't worry about it." 

"But this place is so perfect--and it's gotta be costing you a fortune, and then tomorrow night, we're actually staying over in Taxco but keeping this room--" 

"Are you having a good time?" 

"Are you nuts? Of course I am. This is great!" 

"So am I. So it's worth it. When the bill comes, we just have to each select a healthy organ we can sell on the black market, and we'll be all set." 

"I can tell you which one I'm _not_ letting you sell," Blair responded, grinning and sliding off Jim's lap. He wasn't fast enough to avoid the firm swat on the butt from his lover. 

* * *

Dinner was an elegant experience, eaten on a terrace overlooking the Acapulco Bay. Jim's earlier gloom seemed to lift as the two men consumed the meal of assorted seafood. 

"This city really has a fascinating history," Blair said, sipping his wine. "It used to be an Indian village in the 1500's, and then Cortes turned it into a shipbuilding center. See, his men discovered the mining opportunities in Taxco, and then things sort of snowballed. I read that Sir Francis Drake--the pirate? He might have hidden some treasure here." 

"You've been doing a little research for this trip, huh, Chief?" Jim asked, smiling at the way that some things never changed. Blair's almost encyclopedic brain was one of those things. 

"I just figured that when I saw something historical, I wanted to know the story behind it. Actually, it wasn't until the 40s and 50s that Acapulco really started to take off as a resort area." 

"So what's the big story on Taxco? I know there are a lot of old buildings you want to photograph, but besides that." 

"Well, like I said, it started out as a mining town, but in 1930, an American named William Spratling discovered--well, I guess you could say, _re-discovered_ it, got the mines up and running again. He's the one who set up the silver smithing shop and taught the local artisans to work with silver." Blair paused to eat a little more. "There are so many beautiful places to see there, Jim. The Church of Santa Prisca, for one." 

"That's the one with the blue and pink tiles? I can't wait to see that one myself." Jim smiled a little as he just sat there and soaked up Blair's contagious enthusiasm. 

"Actually, it has blue tile domes and pink walls, and two 130-foot Baroque towers. Man! I can't wait to see it." 

"I'm surprised you never came here before, Chief." 

"I guess I got turned off by the commercialism. Looks like I've been overlooking a lot of historical stuff here. Oh, yeah--and there's the Convento de San Bernardino de Sena. It's a sixteenth century Franciscan monastery where they drew up Mexico's Revolutionary Plan of Iguala. And that's another place we have to stop--Iguala." 

"Iguana, huh?" Jim needled, keeping his face straight as he took another drink of wine. 

"Igua-LA, Jim," Blair corrected, right before the other man looked up, and the tell-tale twitch of his jaw gave him away. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?" 

"Head first, baby." Jim laughed and returned to eating. 

* * *

The sapphire water scurried up on the white sands, then retreated again, just missing the bare feet of the two men walking hand in hand along the shoreline. The moon highlighted the waves and lit their path. 

"What're you thinking about?" Blair asked quietly, having been walking for the last few minutes in silence with the man next to him. 

"That I'd like to freeze this vacation in time. Never go back." 

"You'd get bored just lying around the pool." Blair smiled up at him affectionately. "You know you would." 

"Bored? With you? I don't think so." Jim pulled Blair's hand up and planted a kiss on the back of it before lowering their joined hands again. 

"You feeling okay about things? You know, about earlier?" 

"Yeah, pretty much. You missed your calling, sweetheart. You should have been a shrink." 

"Well, it would just mean re-doing about six years of coursework. You don't mind, do you?" 

"You can be a student the rest of your life if that's what you want to do, baby. Anything you want that I have a prayer of getting for you is yours, you know that." 

"You spoil me." 

"I know. It's probably my favorite thing to do--well, maybe second favorite." 

"You're just plying me with offers of your vast wealth so you can plunder my virtue later," Blair responded indignantly. Jim laughed, and Blair joined him. 

"If I could, I'd buy you Taxco. And the ocean, and anything else you wanted." 

"The only thing I want from you is this--us together. I want your forever, Jim. That's all." 

"I love you, Blair," Jim said quietly, stopping and turning to take both Blair's hands in his. He released one long enough to reach up and loosen Blair's hair from its confines, letting the ocean breeze toy with it. "You already have my forever, sweetheart. From the first time I saw you, you had my heart, even if I didn't know it." He slid his hands into Blair's hair and pulled him in for a prolonged kiss. When they parted, Blair took a hold of Jim's hands again. 

"I love you, mine." He reached up to stroke the strong jaw. "I love the way you love me. Nobody's ever loved me like you do." 

"Same here, angel." 

"Think we should call it a night?" Blair asked. 

"Yeah. Let's go mess up some more sheets." Jim flopped an arm over his lover's shoulders as the other man laughed, and they made their way back to their rented car. 

Concluded in part nine.


	9. Chapter 9

Due to the length of this story, it's been split into nine parts for easier loading.

## The Secret Life of J.J. Rush

by Candy Apple

Continued from part eight.

* * *

**THE SECRET LIFE OF J.J. RUSH - conclusion**

by 

Candy Apple 

The trip to Iguala and Taxco were a blur of historical sights and Blair's ongoing narrative. Blair had always been a pretty fair picture-taker, but he'd been taking more and more of an interest in photography, ironically fueled by his task of taking photos on a number of Jim's stakeouts while the detective had a more active role to play. The Catedral de Santa Prisca was all Blair had promised it would be, and the camera captured the structure from every possible angle. Blair discovered amidst his brochures information on the Chapel of Senor Chavarietta, which boasted a 17th century crucifix. 

While Blair added to his swelling photo library, Jim wandered about inside the church, reliving a few memories of his youth. While he hadn't exactly attended a church considered an historic landmark, nor did he have the inspiration of Baroque architecture or 17th century crucifixes, he could remember very clearly attending church with his father and Stephen. Even then, it had seemed like something to be done for appearances, and God was one of many things that simply rounded out William Ellison's image as a member of the respectable upper class. 

Jim ran his hand along the wood of one of the old pews. There were times he wondered about religion, about God, about the role of all of it in a person's life beyond the appearance of going to Church on Sunday because that's what respectable people did. Where did the God of his childhood fit in with shamans and spirit guides and sentinels? And yet, why couldn't He fit into that world? Who gave the gift of sentinel abilities? Who allowed manifestations of spirit guides? Who sent him Blair at precisely the moment he needed him the most? 

Blair paused in his flurry of photography when he noticed that Jim had slipped away from the little cluster of tourists. It took him a moment to locate the solitary figure that knelt on one of the kneelers on the far side of the church, away from the noise and movement of the church's visitors. Blair had never given much thought to Jim's religion, because organized religions held very little lure for Blair. The very Church Jim was raised to believe in would have condemned their whole relationship as sin and depravity. The host of rules and regulations imposed on followers' lives by any organized religion was something that trampled the individual freedom of choice and conscience that Blair so firmly believed anyone deserved. 

Jim's moment of prayer, contemplation, whatever it actually was turned out to be very brief. He rose, making the Sign of the Cross as flawlessly and effortlessly as if he did it every day. Before he turned to see Blair's eyes drilling holes in his back, the younger man turned his attention back to ogling the architecture. 

The two men stopped for a lunch of pizza and beer, Blair's concession to Jim for spending the day receiving an almost mind-num bing history lesson. After all, he still had to deal with Blair's boundless enthusiasm over an upcoming visit to the Museo de Argueologia Guillermo Spratling, a local museum of indigenous and contemporary arts. Last but not least, they still had to troll for silver jewelry souvenirs for Naomi, and Jim figured one or two for Blair himself. Of course Blair wouldn't leave without picking up something for each of the girls in the lab, Rhonda, Mrs. Benjamin, their elderly neighbor, and the list rolled on. 

By the time their day of snapping photos and wandering the twisting cobblestone streets of Taxco drew to a close, both men were more than ready to check into their local hotel and shower and change for dinner. 

The hotel they had chosen was a colonial mansion converted into tourist lodgings. Jim had reserved the best room in the place, wanting to be sure they had not only nice accommodations, but their own private bath. 

The room was as charming as they both hoped, with an excellent view of the historic city, a large ceiling fan and what appeared to be an antique carved wood bed, adorned with a rich, deep red bedspread. The bathroom facilities were blessedly modern, and by unspoken consent, they dispensed with their sweaty, well-used tourist clothing and climbed under the spray of the shower together, soaping and washing each other, dispelling the grime of the warm day of sightseeing. Jim took his time shampooing the long curls that had been fastened securely all day, and when the job was finished and he was guiding Blair under the stream for the rinse, he couldn't help watching a little trail of sudsy water slither down Blair's smooth, water-sheened back to the seam of his buttocks. 

"Want you," he whispered hotly in Blair's ear, molding himself to the other man's back. His growing erection nudged at Blair's spine. 

"Oh, yeah," Blair replied, obviously pleased with the suggestion. He let Jim position him on his hands and knees in the tub, facing away from the spray of water. One, two, then three soapy fingers carefully stretched and prepared him until they began coyly tormenting his prostate. "Jim...Oh, man...come on, I want you in there," Blair panted, thrusting his rear back toward his lover. 

"Hang on, baby," Jim responded, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his own soap-slick cock. Sheathing himself in one smooth stroke, he reached under Blair and found the velvety sacs there, massaging them and then sliding his hand up to the erect shaft. 

"Oh, God, Jim, please...move...harder..." 

Jim didn't respond in words. His actions spoke for themselves as he started a series of strong, firm thrusts into the eager, waiting body beneath him. 

"Love you," he gasped, planting a kiss on Blair's back as he rocked inside him, feeling his own climax building. He picked up the pace and force of his movements, dragging shameless screams of pleasure out of Blair as his prostate was massaged by the passionate intruder. One shrill outcry of Jim's name signaled Blair's orgasm, just as the clenching of his muscles communicated it clearly to Jim's own hungry body. Jim's completion came with a strangled cry of Blair's name. He barely managed to brace himself on the tub to avoid pushing Blair down hard into the unforgiving porcelain. 

"That was _so_ good," Blair gasped, finding himself wishing the intense pleasure could have lasted forever. 

"Stay there, baby. I'll clean you up." Jim planted another kiss on Blair's back as he moved away, cursing a little at the coolness of the water. He washed Blair with a soapy cloth and rinsed him, startling the younger man with a little licking kiss to his washed center before moving away to clean himself and let Blair straighten his position. 

"Maybe we should just forget dinner." 

"I thought you wanted to eat up at Monte Taxco tonight." Jim referred to the posh resort that was just a cable car ride away. 

"Yeah, I do," Blair responded, almost disappointedly as they got out of the shower. 

"We'll have a great dinner and then come back here and make a little history of our own in that antique bed. Sound good?" 

"Sounds perfect," Blair replied, grinning up at Jim as they toweled off. 

"Think you'll have enough film for tomorrow?" Jim referred to the tour of Las Grutas de Cacahuamilpa, the nearby caves that sported massive stalactites and stalagmites, plus any other last minute shutterbug activity that might overcome Blair as they left the picturesque town. 

Dinner was a delicious experience as the two of them indulged in the dinner buffet served overlooking the city as the rosy glow of sunset blanketed the historic structures. Jim had opted for a pale blue shirt and white pants while Blair wore a pair of tan pants and a colorful handwoven shirt sporting various shades of tan and green from one of the stands in Acapulco. 

"I still don't picture Simon wearing that vest you picked out for him, Chief." 

"It's not gaudy or anything. Just shades of brown with a little orange through it to give it some life. Have you seen the way he's been dressing lately? Does the phrase 'stuffed shirt' mean anything to you?" 

"That doesn't mean he wants to loosen up his image, sweetheart." 

"He'll love it. You'll see. It'll remind him to lighten up a little." 

"In that case, it'll be worth it. You think you got Naomi stocked up on enough silver jewelry?" Jim asked, smiling affectionately. 

"Yeah. And don't forget that amethyst ring I found in Iguala." 

"I think it'll cost more to insure the package than it did to come here." 

"What package? I want her to come and visit so she can see all the pictures. I don't know if she's been to Acapulco yet or not." 

"I thought she had been everywhere." 

"Well, yeah. I don't recall her mentioning this though. If not, we should come back--you know, get a group together and show our friends around." 

"Getting a little stir crazy stuck here with just me all this time?" 

"No!" Blair protested immediately, then relaxed a little at Jim's smile. 

"I was kidding, sweetheart. I think that sounds like fun." 

"I was starting to think we weren't going to get a honeymoon for a while there. But this one was sure worth the wait." 

"You're right, Chief. This was a good idea." 

"The churches were really something, weren't they?" 

"Beautiful. I can't wait to see how all those photos turned out." 

"Probably doesn't look too much like the church you went to when you were a kid, huh?" 

"Not really," Jim replied, laughing a little. "But it still reminded me." Figuring Blair had noticed his brief moment of prayer in the church, Jim didn't make him work too hard to open the subject. "I still think about it sometimes. But I haven't really found a niche, you know? I mean, according to the whole Catholic doctrine, I'm on the outside because I'm divorced, and really on the outside having a male lover. So I can't see myself following a religion that calls us a sin." 

"I've never really found the right one either." Blair pushed his food around a bit with his fork. "I'm still looking. Maybe there isn't an organized religion out there for me. Maybe I just have to believe, and know there's a higher power up there, and let it go at that." 

"If you ever find one, let me know, huh?" 

"Yeah, I will. I'll let the world know. But you know, every time I think I've found a belief system or a religion that I can really get into, I run into something I just can't swallow. Or something that doesn't wash with my ideas about whatever deity is running the show." 

"You'd have a better base of knowledge to work from on that one than I would. I know how I was raised, but you know, even then, it was more a thing we did on Sunday morning than anything meaningful in our lives. I think quite a few of my dad's business associates took their families to Church on Sunday, so it was a good idea for us to go too, sometimes out to breakfast someplace expensive afterwards--where of course, we ran into a few of the right people." 

"I'm surprised your dad didn't remarry. He would have been a real catch--wealthy, successful, good-looking--and there aren't many single men around in the late 30s or early 40s who are available. I would think he'd have been beating the women away with a club." 

"That's precisely what he did. One marriage seemed to be more than enough for him. He was married to his work. It wouldn't have worked out if he had remarried. In a way, I guess it's just as well he didn't. It would have been harder on Stephen to get attached to another mother figure and then have her torn away a couple years later." 

"Stephen? What about you?" 

"He was younger." 

"Jim, that doesn't make you any less susceptible to being hurt by something when you were little--just because Stephen was younger." 

"Well," Jim took a sip of his wine, "he was my little brother, and I looked out for him. I guess I just thought in those terms." 

"So who took care of you?" 

"I did," Jim replied simply, returning to his meal, then looking back up at the sadness that reply seemed to bring to Blair's eyes. "That is until you showed up." He reached across the table and took Blair's hand, returning the smile that threatened to split the other man's face in half. "It took me a while to get used to having someone around, someone looking out for me. Once I did, it didn't take any time at all for me to get spoiled rotten by it." 

"I wish we'd known each other sooner--as kids or something." 

"The timetable would have been a little difficult, Chief," Jim responded, smiling. He also thought of the nerdy little friend with the big glasses he'd found one summer, then abandoned to stay with the vapid in-crowd of rich boys and jocks he generally ran around with. Would he have known enough to hold onto Blair back then if he'd been around? Probably not. 

"It's just...you know, every kid should have someone who takes care of them. Who loves them. I mean, Naomi moved around a lot, and she had a lot of boyfriends and a busy social life and everything, but I never wondered about whether or not she loved me. I didn't give her much to go to as a mom--you know, I wasn't a star jock or anything. But when I got older, I started winning some essay contests, academic things. She was always there for everything." 

"I think our timing was perfect, sweetheart. I probably would have pulled the same stunt on you I did on Toby." 

"Toby?" 

"Yeah." Jim squeezed Blair's hand a little and they both returned to the task of eating. "He was a new kid in my neighborhood the summer before the sixth grade. Stephen was old enough to have a few friends of his own, so once summer started, he sometimes took off with them. But I always made him tell me where he was going. I mean, Sally checked up on both of us, but Stephen was my responsibility as far as I was concerned. Anyhow, Toby's family moved in sometime near Memorial Day, and it was too late for him to start school, since we were only a few days away from being out for the summer. So I didn't meet him until mid-June sometime. He came down the street and introduced himself. He was a skinny little science nerd," Jim recalled, smiling. 

"Sounds familiar," Blair replied, laughing with him. 

"He was the best friend I ever had--til I met you. We did everything together. He wasn't very good at sports, but he'd try anything once, and he was fascinating--he knew something about everything. And the thing was, that was the summer after everything happened with Bud and the murders...I wasn't really the same after that. I hadn't thought much about it until now, but my interest in just screwing around and doing the stupid things kids do...it sort of waned a little. I think something...died inside after the murders, and I don't just mean my sentinel abilities. Seeing a murder victim when you're ten years old leaves you...I don't know. Grim might be a good word. Serious, maybe?" 

"When did your abilities go away? Right away after finding Bud?" 

"No. Right after the argument with my dad. I guess. I wasn't trying to use them, but I could still hear everything he said to the cops at the scene, everything the cops were saying to each other, I could still focus on something way beyond normal range. It all seemed normal to me, because I was always able to do it. I guess when I realized it was all mine to deal with alone...that I was a freak of nature--that I wasn't just somebody who had great eyesight and sharp hearing and a good sniffer... I didn't keep track of it, but I know I don't remember ever picking up on anything more than anyone else did from that point on, until I went to Peru, and my survival--and the tribe's--depended on it." 

"You aren't a freak of nature, Jim. You _are_ gifted." 

"I know that now. But I couldn't fight the freak label when I was a kid. But we were talking about Toby here, not me." 

"I like talking about you. You don't do it too often." 

"Probably because I know all of it and it's boring." 

"Not to me." 

"So Toby was the only real friend I hung out with that summer. We took walks, sometimes nature walks--and he showed off his vast knowledge of plants and trees and birds and bugs or whatever. We went bike-riding. He could keep his bike upright, so that was one thing he managed to do without half killing himself," Jim recalled, laughing. "He didn't mind that I was quiet, and when there was a part of the woods I wouldn't go near, he didn't call me a chicken or make a big thing out of it. I never told him about Bud. I couldn't bring it up. It was a big job stuffing it in the back of my mind. It was like opening a jack-in-the-box to let it out. How do you stuff it back in again?" Jim sighed. "I'm getting side-tracked." 

"Did your other friends give you a hard time?" 

"Most of them didn't know anything about it, and what little they ever did know were just rumors. Ironically though, my time of being one of the gang didn't really last all that long. I was still good in sports, which kept me kind of hanging on the fringe of the in-crowd, and made me popular with the girls, but I didn't have the personality or the patience to be a crowd-pleaser anymore. The stupid shit they did for entertainment annoyed me more than anything else. I mean, how exciting is it to toilet-paper trees and egg windows on Halloween? And what's the point? I started looking at all the stunts they pulled as just so much stupid shit I didn't have time for." 

"I only toilet-papered one tree in my life, and Naomi just about skinned me alive when she found out." 

"This sounds like a story I should hear." 

"Well, I was fourteen, and I almost never got asked to go along on anything with the so-called 'in crowd'. But a bunch of boys from my high school class decided to toilet paper the trees around the principal's house for suspending one of their friends. Looking back, I think they were setting me up to take the fall, because I was the only one who got caught, and I was the one they picked out to do the big oak tree closest to the house. I ended up face to face with Mr. Woolworth--I was in his tree and he was looking out the bedroom window," Blair recounted, laughing a little at the memory, which hadn't been so funny at the time. 

"So they all split while you were having this moment of eye contact with Woolworth?" 

"Uh huh. They left their supplies, and most of the trees in his yard were messed up at that point. So it looked like I did the whole thing. I was so scared, I almost pissed my pants. He was a real hard ass, and I had no clue what he was gonna do when I finally came down out of the tree. He stood down there and waited, hands on hips. I was sure he was going to beat the shit out of me." 

"He didn't, I take it?" 

"I think the only reason he didn't was because he knew that the school board wouldn't tolerate it, since corporal punishment was against the rules by then at our school, and he knew Naomi would kill him if he laid a hand on me. He had met her a few times at parents' functions, and he knew we were close, and she was heavily anti-violence. So if any parent would have come down on him for swatting their kid, it would have been her." 

"So what happened?" 

"I got out of the tree and he basically lectured me on what a degenerate I was and how I was wasting my time engaging in this kind of juvenile behavior, and so on and so on and so on. Made me wish I _had_ papered his whole fucking yard. He was such a dick. He wouldn't even listen to my side. I mean, why would I do that by myself? I was _glad_ he suspended the creep--it was one of the guys that used to push me around all the time." 

"The other jerks never got caught?" 

"If I named names, they would have had me for lunch. So I took the rap because just saying that 'some other kids' were in on it with me, or that it was their idea, didn't hold much water without pointing a finger at who they were. I never saw Naomi that mad." Blair shook his head. "I thought she'd probably laugh the whole thing off. Then, when I could see she was really pissed, I thought she'd let me off the hook because I was peer-pressured into it. I knew all the right terminology even then. The bottom line with her was respect for others. She said what I did showed disrespect for another person's property, peace of mind and personal space. That even if on some cosmic level, Woolworth deserved it, it wasn't up to me to do it. She said his rotten Karma would catch up to him sooner or later." 

"What did she do about it?" 

"Well, I lost a really fine set of concert tickets for that weekend, and I ended up cleaning up the yard, and writing a letter of apology to Mr. Woolworth. It sucked, big time. I didn't get to see REO Speedwagon until they toured again two years later--and then I had nosebleed seats. I was so pissed off I couldn't see straight." 

"Sounds like you were just trying to fit in with the other kids." 

"Yeah, I was. But her point was that doing something wrong just to be one of the gang is still wrong. And she was so big on respecting others. I mean, if I'd gotten drunk or something, she probably would have bawled me out or lectured me a little, but she most likely wouldn't have punished me for it. But if I'd gotten drunk and then driven somewhere, for example, she'd have gone ballistic. One is an individual choice to behave irresponsibly, and the other is a choice to share the outcomes of that behavior with other people who haven't had the chance to make that free choice for themselves. You risk their lives without their consent through your own irresponsibility. And she felt the same way about papering the trees. His trees, his yard, his space, and therefore, I had no right to vandalize it. If I'd drawn a picture of him with horns and a tail, she'd have defended me all the way, because that would have been my freedom of expression, and it wouldn't have hurt anyone." 

"My dad would have just grounded me for a month and had me scrubbing the spokes on his tires with a toothbrush or something. I think our punishment system at home was a lot easier to reason through." 

"Everything had a meaning with Naomi. She didn't believe in a lot of rules, but she believed in being a good citizen of the world community, so to speak, and that involved respecting each other and not doing malicious things to people or their property." Blair frowned. "A toothbrush?" 

"I was kidding, Chief," Jim replied, laughing. "He wasn't that much of a jerk. Close, but not quite." 

"We got side-tracked off the Toby thing." 

"Well, I spent the summer with Toby--we were running around somewhere just about every day. Sometimes Stephen and a couple of his friends tagged along, but usually it was just us. When school started in the fall, it all...fell apart." 

"He went somewhere else?" 

"That would have made things very simple, actually. We'd probably still be friends now. No, we started out going to the same school, and riding the bus together. The other kids went after him big time because he was a textbook nerd. Truthfully, I didn't have the strength to fight the battle for him. Looking back on it now...I was so hard on myself for backing down, when I thought about it later, but now, remembering what had happened the previous fall, with finding Bud and the whole business with the murders and my sentinel abilities and my dad...there were days, even as a kid, that I felt like I was on the edge. And so when they all started harassing Toby and making fun of him and excluding him, I didn't last long sticking up for him. Pretty soon I just let it happen, put some distance between us on the bus and basically threw him to the wolves." 

"You weren't yourself at that point, Jim. You had been traumatized by what happened with Bud, and then with the way your dad reacted to things...I think it's incredible you got through all of it as well as you did without...well, without turning out to be some kind of psycho yourself." 

"I felt so guilty about Toby...I still do, to some extent. But now I know I wasn't capable of fighting too many battles at that point." Jim sighed. "So finally Toby switched schools--right about Thanksgiving time. He went to St. Mary's, which was a Catholic private school with a really great reputation. They had a high school too, and I think he must have just gone on through there. I never saw much of him again. I couldn't really go to him and apologize, because I didn't plan to change my behavior any. So the most I ever saw of him was by accident, on the street once in a while, or in a store, or at the mall--stuff like that. He'd wave, or sometimes say hi, but it was over." 

"Did you ever think about contacting him again?" 

"No." 

"Why not? Jim, if he knew what was wrong, that something bad had happened to you, and that you would have done things differently if you'd felt better about things...it might mean a lot to him." 

"Blair, he's my age now, probably with a successful career and a family and a life of his own. I'm sure he doesn't need me popping up and apologizing for something he doesn't even remember too well." 

"Trust me, he remembers. And it would still matter." 

"Sounds like the voice of experience." 

"I wasn't exactly captain of the football team in high school, and in grade school, it was all I could do to remember not to write my name on my papers as 'Four Eyes Sandburg'--or the more informal version--'Runt'. Kids are mean as hell, man. Most of the time you let it go because it's not worth getting worked up about. But sometimes someone you trust...someone you thought was your friend... Well, I just think that Toby would probably like to hear from you someday." 

"Some jerk did to you want I did to Toby, huh?" 

"Sort of. It was a little different. This girl I really liked? We were in the seventh grade, and I got all A's most of the time. She was having trouble in math--but I didn't really know that at the start. But she started being really nice to me, walking to classes with me, the usual stuff you do that passes for having a girlfriend when you're twelve." Blair smiled slightly. "Then she asked for help with her math. That was okay. I helped. Then she wanted to sit next to me on test days. Said she was nervous, could we sit together. Okay, I bought that. She was cheating off my tests. Next thing I knew she needed help on her English homework, and pretty soon she was wheedling me into writing papers for her." 

"Nice girl." 

"Yeah, she was a sweetheart." Blair rolled his eyes. "And I was a sucker. She was popular, really pretty." 

"So what made you wise up?" 

"I overheard her talking to one of her friends, and they were laughing about me and how she was getting me to do all this stuff. And she made some remark about what a dork I was..." Blair shook his head. "That hurt." 

"Did you ever confront her?" 

"Yeah. I told her I knew what she was up to and that the Sandburg homework service was officially out of business. She tried to tell me that she was sorry, that she hadn't meant what she said, that some of her friends had been teasing her about having a boyfriend and she was just trying to get them off her back." 

"You didn't buy that?" 

"I figured, if I got hurt once it was her fault. If I got it twice, I'd only have myself to blame. So I told her to forget it. She was running around with her 'cool friends' the next day and she never said anymore about it." Blair took a sip of his wine. "I was devastated. I talked real tough to her but then I went home to my mom and cried for an hour." 

"Naomi probably sent her poisonous vibes for that." 

"Naomi's exact words were, 'she's a cruel, selfish person, and her own bad karma is going to come back and bite her on the butt when she least expects it'." 

"So if she called you right now, it would mean something?" 

"If she could honestly say, as an adult, truthfully, that she really did care something about me then, or that we _were_ friends, and she just couldn't hold up her part of the bargain under the peer pressure, yeah, it probably would. See, after that, I never trusted anybody very much. I figured they were only nice to me for what I could do for them. Even when we first got together, I figured you were only being nice to me because you needed my help. It was a real shocker to find out you were being nice to me because you wanted me for a friend." 

"A friend, a lover, a life partner, that's all," Jim added, smiling and taking a hold of Blair's hand again. "Maybe I'll do a little checking and see if I can find Toby." 

"Might put one of your old demons to sleep, once and for all." 

"I guess what started all this was that I'm glad I met you when I was smart enough to appreciate your friendship, instead of when I was an empty-headed pre-adolescent fruitcake." 

"Maybe our timing was perfect," Blair responded, lacing his fingers with Jim's. 

* * *

The next day was spent touring the caves, taking more photos and after grabbing a snack at a small restaurant, heading back to Acapulco for a little down time in their own private paradise. They indulged in a moonlight swim, making love on the patio under the stars, and finally ordering a late meal from the hotel, which they ate on the patio, sitting naked on a beach towel, feeding each other. It wasn't until Jim snickered a little that Blair broke what had been a peaceful silence. 

"What?" He was grinning back. 

"Well, I was just thinking back on my honeymoon with Carolyn--" 

"If I were a woman, you'd probably be in deep shit right now, man," Blair replied, laughing. "Go ahead." 

"I don't mean it that way," Jim explained, smiling at his own tasteless reply. "If I had suggested we eat dinner naked, she would have thought I was some kind of pervert and probably divorced me before the cruise ship docked." 

"Did it occur to you to eat dinner naked with Carolyn?" 

"Actually, no. It never would have," Jim replied honestly. 

"This is like some kind of paradise. I guess that's why I like doing all the things we'd never chance doing anywhere in Cascade. I mean, how many chances would we have to sit on a beach towel stark naked in the moonlight and eat dinner?" 

"Unless we wanted to die of exposure or be arrested, not too many." 

"So what are we gonna do tomorrow?" 

"Fish." 

"Cool! I knew you were going to get us on a boat or something one of the days. I couldn't remember which one it was." 

"Try our own boat and small crew for the day." 

"Our own boat?" Blair's eyes were saucers. 

"I'm not sharing you with anybody on this trip," Jim responded, leaning over and kissing Blair's startled mouth. 

"But...I mean, isn't that really expen--" He was cut off by a gentle hand over his mouth. 

"Don't worry about it." Jim moved his hand and kissed Blair again. "This is the trip we're going to talk about when we're old and gray and arthritic and don't have the energy to do more than dotter along the beach in heavy sweaters with our walkers." 

"I want to get that old with you," Blair replied quietly. "I want us to have a long time together, but I don't want you to go first. I know that's selfish, but I don't." 

"I think we're both selfish the same way about that, Chief. But I wouldn't lose too much sleep over it. I'm healthy as a horse and I'm not going anywhere anytime soon." 

"Not unless I can go too," Blair responded, scooting over to duck under the arm that came around his shoulders. 

"Life's supposed to begin after ten o'clock at night around here. What do you say we do the fishing thing tomorrow, come back here and take a nap--I mean an honest to God sleeping nap--" Jim clarified at Blair's lecherous waggle of eyebrows, "and then go out for a late dinner and hit the discos." 

"That would be _so_ cool! I didn't think you'd want to do that. I mean, they're crowded and noisy, and I figured they'd get on your nerves with your hearing and everything." 

"Maybe they will. But you can't really go to Acapulco and not hit a few nightspots." 

"Is it getting a little chilly out here?" Blair asked, shivering a bit. The night air was beginning to cool down. 

"Yeah, a little." Jim moved away a moment and snatched their robes off the end of the chaise lounger where they'd been discarded, wrapping Blair up in his before pulling on his own. "Better?" 

"Lots." 

"I could probably come up with a better way to warm you up," Jim whispered in his lover's ear. 

"Think so, huh?" 

"I'm sure of it." Jim started nibbling at the ear. "'Course you'll have to take the robe off again." 

"Drat," Blair replied, feigning annoyance. He smiled as the fabric was pulled back off his shoulders while a series of wet, sucking kisses trailed down his neck and over his shoulders. The hot mouth paused in a few spots to leave small passion marks in their wake, finally sliding Blair's robe all the way off his body again, bringing a little chortle from the smaller man. 

Strong hands reached around the front of Blair as Jim sat behind him, his long legs stretching out on either side of the other man's hips. Fingers pinched and teased Blair's nipples to hardness, tangled in the soft curls of chest hair, and crept downward toward the rapidly hardening shaft waiting in its own little nest of curls. 

Blair's head dropped back on Jim's shoulder, exposing his throat as he expelled little moans of pleasure at the work Jim's hands were doing. That graceful curve of throat was more than Jim could resist, and he added the wet, sucking attentions of his mouth to the ministrations of his hands. 

In a move that took Jim completely by surprise, his languid lover twisted around and pounced on him, pushing them back on the towel, opening Jim's robe and fastening his mouth on a taut nipple. 

"Nice sneak attack, baby," Jim responded through a little laugh that was soon cut off with a moan of pleasure. His hands came up and tangled in Blair's silky hair, his hips moving upward to find Blair's rigid shaft. 

"Want you, lover... You want me?" Blair gasped against Jim's mouth, then claimed it in a prolonged kiss. 

"Oh yeah," Jim responded, his legs spreading at the suggestion. 

Blair fumbled in the pocket of his discarded robe and found the lube, which made Jim laugh out loud. 

"Now that's being prepared, Chief." 

"You never know when you might be presented with something important that needs lubing," Blair replied, moving between Jim's spread legs, bent at the knees with feet planted on the towel-covered cement. He raised his knees to his chest, opening himself completely. "You want me right away, babe? You want me inside you?" Blair whispered in a low, husky voice. The rigid shaft straining out of Jim's groin was enough of an answer, but the other man grunted something affirmative. "Love you, mine," Blair said softly, lowering his head to lick at the exposed flesh, running his tongue slowly up and down Jim's perineum and finally making a tentative dart into his center. 

With Jim writhing in pleasure, Blair continued the work of his tongue, thoroughly claiming his lover with his mouth before drawing back and coating his fingers with the lube. He kissed and nipped at Jim's thighs while his fingers worked at stretching the tight ring of muscle. Finally venturing in to brush Jim's prostate, he drew a shriek of pleasure out of his lover. 

"Blair, come on, Chief... You're killin' me here," Jim managed. 

"Hold on, lover. I'm gonna take good care of you, babe." Blair coated himself with the lube and slid slowly but steadily into the hungry heat of Jim's pulsing passage. When he was fully sheathed, Jim's legs came to rest over his shoulders. 

"God, Blair... Move... Fuck me," came the plea from Jim that Blair hadn't heard since before Jim left him to enter the life of J.J. Rush. They had experienced some great sex, and Blair had topped successfully on several occasions now, but it had always been tentative and as gentle and hesitant as the first time. Now Jim was fully opened, fully impaled, loving every minute of it and in the mood for something a little more frenzied and carnal than Blair's usual gentle approach. 

"Feels so good inside you," Blair gasped, starting to pump in and out in long, firm strokes. "Ugh...Oh, man, it's good..." Blair groaned, thrusting faster, taking Jim more thoroughly than he had in over a year. 

Jim's head was thrown back, his face a mask of intensity with the pleasure of Blair's movements. Each thrust dragged a grunt of pleasure from the pit of his soul, until he found himself constantly goading Blair to move faster, pump harder. When the younger man remembered to grasp Jim's weeping cock and stroke it in tempo with their sex, Jim let out a screamed order to Blair to make him come. The other man obliged, angling his strokes to hit Jim's prostate over and over, cutting loose and thoroughly enjoying taking what he wanted, delirious with the pleasure of having his way with Jim and being asked to do it at the same time. 

Jim's muscles contracted sharply around Blair's cock as he cried out and spurted his completion over Blair's hand and chest. The clenching muscles were Blair's undoing, his raw, primal shout of pleasure accompanying an orgasm that tore through him like white lightning. 

He suddenly became aware of the substantial weight of Jim's long legs hooked over his shoulders as he shuddered his way through the aftershocks. Jim moved, releasing his lover from his burden, feeling Blair's withdrawal with a little discomfort, but considering it well worth it. He gathered the sweaty, sated body in his arms and pulled one of the robes over Blair's damp back as his body became Jim's warm, hairy blanket. 

"You okay, baby?" Jim had a smile in his voice as he stroked Blair's back and listened to the thundering of his heart. 

"Am I--? I oughtta ask you." 

"I'm great," Jim replied, complete with a sappy smile. 

"Did I hurt you?" 

"Uh-uh. I'll be looking for a padded seat on the boat tomorrow, but it was worth it, baby." 

"That felt _so_ good," Blair admitted, his heartbeat quieting now. 

"I'll second that." 

"Think we ought to go inside and clean up?" 

"Pool's heated." Jim kissed Blair's forehead. 

"Yeah, but I think maybe a little soap would be nice. And a long soak in the tub?" 

"Sounds great." 

After taking a languid, warm bath together, they crawled into bed, fully sated and sleepy. As Blair lay with his head on Jim's shoulder, enclosed in the strong arms, Jim's voice stopped him from tumbling over the abyss into sleep. 

"That first day we met, when you asked me the eavesdrop on those girls you liked?" 

"What?" 

"You remember, when you wanted to know what that cute blonde thought of you?" 

"Oh! Okay, I remember now. What about it?" 

"Well," Jim began, thinking again of the pain Blair had gone through as a child at overhearing two girls laughing at him and calling him a dork, "I lied." 

"What?" 

"I lied. She thought you were gorgeous and if you had asked her out, she would have gone." 

"So she didn't say I was a dork?" 

"No." 

"Why'd you tell me she said that?" 

"I was in a pissy mood, I guess. It was a shitty thing to do. I'm sorry, Blair. I just wanted you to know. Plus, now it's safe for me to tell you because she probably graduated and moved to another state by now." 

"Probably," Blair replied, laughing. Both men were quiet a few minutes. "Thanks for telling me." 

"I thought it might still matter a little." 

"It's nice to know." 

"Goodnight, angel. Sleep tight." 

"'night, lover." Blair nestled down into Jim's arms and within moments, both men were sleeping soundly. 

* * *

The next day passed pleasantly on their private fishing boat. It was a relaxing change of pace from the sightseeing of the last couple of days, and the show put on by some jumping dolphins who leapt in perfect arcs over the sapphire waters was a highlight of their day. The major highlight was Jim's prize catch, a five foot long striped marlin. When they docked again, Blair took as many pictures of Jim with his fish as he'd taken of the most stunning historic landmarks. 

After heading back to their bungalow to shower and change, they re-joined the bustle of Acapulco for a taste of the nightlife. Dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe was followed by a cruise of the local nightspots. The first disco they visited was too crowded and noisy even for Blair's tastes, and unbearable for Jim. The second one was somewhat better, and featured a glass wall with a view of the bay. Finding themselves a booth after scoping it out until the couple occupying it finally left, they settled in and watched the action. The music was good, the crowd was noisy but seemed to be a fairly nice group of young to early-middle aged adults. Still, there was something a bit flat about the experience. 

"You want to dance?" Jim finally asked, not sounding wholly excited about the concept. He wasn't really interested in dancing that involved standing opposite the person he was with and essentially wiggling in place. There wasn't room on the dancefloor for much else. 

"Not really," Blair answered honestly. "Too crowded." 

"Music's not bad." 

"No, it's great," Blair shouted over said music. "Is this bothering you yet?" Blair gestured around their environment. 

"Not really," Jim responded, trying to sound light-hearted. Blair shot him a knowing look. "Okay, it's a little bit loud and the crowd's getting to me, but I can deal with it, Chief." 

"Uh, Jim?" Blair hesitated as the other man focused his attention on him. "I, uh, heard about this place that's, uh, not too far from here." 

"Better than this one?" 

"It's a gay nightclub." Blair waited for the explosion. None came. 

"How'd you hear about it?" 

"I did a little 'net surfing before we left." 

"Why should I have known that answer?" Jim laughed a little affectionately. 

"Well, it's supposed to be nice. They have dancing on the rooftop... It might be fun." 

"You mean to dance together without being stared at like the local circus attraction?" 

"Yeah," Blair replied, laughing a little sadly. 

"Let's go." Jim started to slide out of the booth, and Blair was right behind him. 

The nightclub Blair had discovered was called simply "La Playa Blanca", and featured an all white stucco exterior, and an interior decor that was predominantly white. Inside the club, things were a bit chaotic, with the antics of a male stripper keeping the crowd entertained. Once they ascended the stairs and joined the more tranquil rooftop crowd, it was a whole different world. The beach was visible through the trees, male couples dined at small tables, and a few danced to the soft strains of acoustic and flamenco guitars. 

After ordering a bottle of wine, settling at a table and taking in the atmosphere for a while, they took advantage of the dancefloor. While there were other couples there, all were male, no one was staring, and it was not overly crowded. 

"You're leading," Blair said softly as he rested his head on Jim's shoulder, perfectly content to be led anywhere by this particular man. 

"That okay with you, sweetheart?" Jim asked, pulling Blair close against him. 

"You wanna lead later, too?" Blair's tone was almost dreamy. 

"If you don't mind following," Jim replied, kissing the top of Blair's head. 

"I'll always follow you." 

"Blair, someday things are going to be like this for us all the time--I have to believe there's going to be a time when we don't have to be a sideshow for a bunch of homophobic jerks every time we want to dance together or hold hands or do any of the things couples are supposed to be able to do together in public." 

"I hope it comes in our lifetime." Blair moved back enough so he could see Jim's face, though they still swayed slightly to the music. "What we have is so...beautiful. I think what hurts so much is that everyone else sees it as something ugly. I don't care if they stare. I just...sometimes I hate subjecting what we have that's so beautiful to their sick interpretations of it." 

"Me too, baby. Me too. If I could change things, I would. I hate that I can't give you that--that world where we can be ourselves and do it quietly without being poster boys for something." 

"Well, we're not anybody's poster boys now," Blair said, settling happily back against Jim with a contented sigh. "I wish this night would last forever." 

"It'll last the rest of our lives, sweetheart. Nobody can touch what we feel, and they can't take away all the beautiful moments we can have, just the two of us. And if you want to work at kicking down the taboos in Cascade, we'll go out dancing in all the best clubs and drive the homophobes nuts." 

"I thought that's what I wanted," Blair responded softly, his arms tightening around Jim. "It was so important to me to thumb my nose at society, to make them acknowledge us." 

"And now?" 

"Now I just want to live our life together in peace. If we can help make a stride or a difference along the way, that's great. But I don't want to waste all our time together proving something to some narrow-minded assholes who aren't going to ever really change the way they feel about things, even if the law mandates it at some point. I want to enjoy what we have, all the things we _can_ have together... maybe, truthfully, all I needed to know is that you'd do that for me. You know, throw _us_ in everyone's face. How petty is that?" 

"Seems pretty understandable since I was the one who didn't want to come out in the first place. I know that hurt you at the beginning." 

"I understood it, in my head. It was my heart I had some problems with." Blair paused. "But it's not like you ever cheated on me or denied me or anything. And I hate it when people manipulate each other--make a lover jump through hoops to prove something. I hate myself for making you do that." 

"You didn't _make_ me do anything, Chief." 

"Maybe not, but I still have to admit that it was something I needed from you. To know that you'd go _really_ public." 

"Nobody wants to feel like a dirty secret, sweetheart. I never had to go that route because you didn't want to hide anything from anyone at the U, or from your mom or your friends--you were up front from the start. So I never had to feel like you were ashamed of me or embarrassed to admit we were sleeping together. But I didn't exactly make you feel like I was proud of you--of us--at the start. Not until everything crashed down on us last year--that gave me the kick in the ass I needed. When I saw what kind of assholes I was really pleasing by staying in the closet, it suddenly became a hell of a lot less important to do it." Jim squeezed Blair more tightly in his arms. "When Walker and his goons grabbed you and took you to Corman's people--shit, I came so close to losing you...horribly...it all fell into perspective." 

"I just want you to know that I know how hard it was for you to have to come out with me--to go public. There isn't a day that goes by that I'm not grateful for that--that I don't love you more and more for the way you've treated me, the way you've stood up for _us_." 

"This thing of dancing together in public is nice, but I think I'd rather have a little privacy with you right now. How about it, sweetheart? Ready to call it a night?" 

"And what a night it's been, too," Blair replied, grinning and stepping back so they could return to their table, pay their bill and head back to the bungalow. 

The trip through the sitting room to the bedroom was merely a progression of clothing loss for both men. Shirts, pants, socks and shoes were left like a trail of bread crumbs leading to the bed where they fell together, hands and mouths frantically exploring and caressing each other's bodies. 

Some little voice in Jim's mind said something about slow and romantic, but it was drowned out by Blair's own sense of urgency, and the overwhelming response of Jim's body to that hunger. 

Lips and tongue traveled over Blair's throat, shoulders and chest, leaving several large splotches on the slightly sun-bronzed skin. Jim lingered tantalizingly over each nipple, sucking and nipping at it until Blair was screaming his name and arching up against him, his cock at full hardness. Blair finally wriggled away a bit and moved up on all fours on the bed, spreading his legs and thrusting his ass in the air. 

Instead of springing for the lube, Jim surprised his lover by attacking the exposed flesh with his mouth, dragging his tongue up Blair's perineum and then darting in and out of his center. 

"J-im...Oh, God...want you...please?" 

"In a minute, baby," Jim responded, grinning a little evilly as he prolonged Blair's sweet torture, sliding over on his back and relaxing under Blair's rigid cock and taut balls, sucking one of the ovals into his mouth. 

"G-od, Jim, I c-can't hold it...much...longer..." 

"Hold onto it, baby. You're not gonna come now." Jim went back to his ministrations, losing himself in the intimate taste of his lover, until he heard a strained whimper from Blair. Taking mercy, he moved up and reached for the lube, quickly coating himself and then preparing Blair, who in his current frenzied state was as ready as he'd ever be. 

He slid into Blair's tight passage in one long stroke, and then began pumping, dragging himself most of the way out and then all the way back inside, the strokes hitting Blair's prostate and moving his entire body as he clung to the headboard with white knuckles. 

"Harder! Ugh...ugh...hard...so good...ugh..." Blair gave up on words, unable to form coherent thoughts anyway as the thundering of his heart filled his own ears. The rest of his body was focused on the vigorous workout Jim was giving him, a pleasure so intense it teetered on the edge of pain but wasn't pain. He wanted it to stop and to keep going, to ease off and to get harder, to slow and to be more rapid. He settled for a pained groan of ecstasy to express himself, and Jim changed his angle and tempo a bit, managing to somehow go even deeper. 

Jim was grunting now in time with his thrusts, one hand milking Blair's shaft, spurred on by Blair's own cries and shouts of pleasure as the smaller man's body stiffened, his muscles clenched and he shot his climax out over Jim's hand and the bedclothes. Jim's own pinnacle was reached at almost the same instant, and he filled Blair's willing body, following his lover flat onto the bed in an exhausted heap of damp flesh. 

The two of them lay there a moment, panting and trying to recover. Jim moved onto his elbows to give Blair a little more oxygen, and pulled the soft curls aside that were plastered against Blair's neck and upper back. 

"You're growing your hair out longer," Jim said softly, kissing the exposed neck. 

"You said you liked it that way," Blair replied in a whisper, as if speaking out loud would break the magic of the moment. 

"I do. I've always loved your hair, you know that, angel." Jim found a large passion mark and began to lick it soothingly, then did the same with the smaller mark next to it. Blair just purred under him. "Did I hurt you?" 

"Do you ever?" Blair asked, looking over his shoulder with a sleepy, sated smile. 

"I try not to, baby." Jim moved up the side of Blair's neck with his lips, until he stropped an earlobe with his tongue. Blair moved away a little, giggling. Jim rarely heard that particular sound out of Blair, so he couldn't resist trying it again. And again. 

"Jim!" It was laughing exasperation. 

"Sorry, sweetheart. I just don't hear you giggle too often." 

"I didn't giggle." 

"Oh, right. Sorry. You emitted an abbreviated, highly-pitched expression of mirth. Is that better?" Jim teased, going after the earlobe again. 

"Okay, I give up already," Blair responded, emitting the contested giggle again. Satisfied, Jim laughed softly and moved back to his oral exploration of Blair's face, neck and shoulders, finding and soothing the marks he'd left there earlier. While Blair relaxed under the ministrations, Jim carefully withdrew from Blair's body, figuring the other man might be a little tender after their frantic union. "Sore?" 

"What do you think?" Blair responded, smiling over his shoulder at Jim. 

"I think padded seats for you tomorrow," he responded, patting Blair's bottom as he moved off the bed. 

"Where are you going?" 

"Just to get a washcloth and some lotion. Be right back." 

Jim made good on his promise, returning moments later with his supplies. Blair spread his legs as he lay on his stomach on the bed, head pillowed on his folded arms. Jim ignored the twitch in his cock at the sight. Telling himself that he was supposed to be sated completely after just riding Blair like a bucking bronco, he climbed back on the bed. 

"Turn over first, baby. You're going to be stuck there in the morning if you don't." Jim waited while Blair grumbled a little, but complied. Jim began his washing of Blair's stomach and groin area, smiling at the little contented noises coming from his drowsy lover. "I brought a towel for the wet spot." Jim put the towel over the infamous splotch, and Blair turned over on his stomach, pillowing his head on his folded arms, spreading his legs wide apart again. 

"Feels good," Blair sighed as Jim gently cleaned him, then dried him. 

"This'll feel even better." Jim carefully soothed Blair's center with the cool cream, smiling at the sighs and wriggles that signaled Blair's pleasure, though it seemed quite asexual by then. He finished and then planted a kiss on one rounded buttock. After dispensing with his supplies, he climbed back into bed with his lover and gathered the pliant body into his arms. 

"Thanks, lover," Blair whispered, his eyes drifting shut as his head rested against Jim's chest. 

"My pleasure." Jim slid his hand into the tousled curls and kissed Blair's forehead. He felt a leg hook over his as Blair settled in for the night. 

"Our pleasure," Blair corrected, smiling. 

"I love you, Blair." 

"I love you too, mine." 

* * *

The next day was spent lounging on Barra Vieja, a quiet beach about sixteen miles east of Acapulco. The desk clerk at their hotel had suggested it as a less crowded alternative to the packed beaches in the main resort area. The beach was certainly far from deserted, but it wasn't difficult for the two men to find a spot that, while in view of other beach goers, was somewhat their own. 

"My butt's going to be white and funny-looking the more tan I get," Blair opined as he massaged suntan oil onto the impressive expanse of Jim's back as he lay contentedly on his stomach on a large beach towel. 

"You think mine is going to miraculously tan the same color as the rest of me?" Jim asked, smiling a little. 

"We could go back to the bungalow and do this naked." 

"Blair, we're in Acapulco. You don't go to Acapulco and not go to the beach. Or parasailing," Jim mumbled. 

"What?" It was a question loaded with more dread that curiosity. Blair knew exactly what Jim was suggesting, and it sent icy fingers of terror down his spine. He couldn't conjure too many pictures more frightening than being hooked up to a speeding boat and a parachute, sailing through the sky over the water without benefit of an aircraft. Leave it to Jim. 

"You don't want to try it?" 

"What do you think?" 

"I do. I haven't tried that yet. I thought we could do it later. There's always a little surfing. I was thinking tomorrow maybe we could find out where the best waves are--" 

"You don't mind if I bring along a good book and stay on solid ground, do you?" 

"I could teach you to surf." 

"I could drown, too, but that doesn't mean I want to do it." 

"You wouldn't drown, sweetheart. I wouldn't let anything happen to you." 

"Tell me that after I fall of the board about the tenth time." 

"Okay. You sit on the beach and watch and _I'll_ go surfing tomorrow." 

"Fair enough. All done," Blair capped the suntan lotion and stretched out on his own towel, on his back. Jim had taken an indecent length of time coating Blair's chest and stomach prior to stretching out himself. 

Several long moments passed until Blair stiffened at the feeling of something crawling softly up his arm. Opening frightened eyes, he discovered that it was a large, five-fingered, flesh-covered creature that moved like a stealthy tarantula over his shoulder, down his chest and toward his nipple. Catching a glimpse at Jim's mischievous smile, Blair couldn't stop from laughing a little before capturing the intruder and kissing it thoroughly. Fingers laced tightly together, the two of them rested there a while, then shifted positions to avoid burning, went through the prolonged suntan lotion ritual again with a few detours--Blair spending an inordinate amount of time making sure Jim's nipples were protected and Jim taking the extra precaution of spreading the lotion high under the legs of Blair's swimming trunks. 

By early afternoon, they threw on old t-shirts and sneakers and headed for the nearby fast-food restaurant to get a bite to eat. Jim found a place to rent an umbrella, since he still planned on trying the parasailing that was supposed to start in the late afternoon, but neither man wanted to toast in the sun any longer. Their plans for the rest of this trip would be seriously hampered by painful sunburns. 

Jim's foray into the wonderful world of parasailing seemed to make Blair more nervous than it did Jim, who happily followed the directions for strapping on the harness and awaited take off with all the anticipation of a kid at an amusement park. Blair waited with the spectators on the shore, watching Jim soaring above the water, snapping photos to add to their collection. The wife of the man who had just completed his trip before Jim seemed to sense Blair's tension as he watched the whole process. 

"We come here every year on vacation. Hal loves parasailing. Does it several times on every trip." She smiled as Blair looked down into her lined face. She was a small woman, about five feet tall, probably sixty-five years old, at least. "First time?" 

"Yeah. Jim knows how to surf, and he can ride a mean waverunner, but he's never done this before." 

"How long have you two been together?" she asked, still smiling. 

"Huh?" Blair had tried not to be an obvious "spouse" while they participated in this particular activity, mainly because there had been a large group of beer-drinking guys nearby whose ages fell somewhere between his and Jim's that he really didn't want to have a scene with if they could avoid it. He knew Jim wouldn't stand still for any remarks aimed their way--especially anything derogatory toward Blair--so he'd kept his cool. 

"Well, the matching rings were sort of a tip-off, honey," she said gently. 

"We've been together about four years, married a little over a year. We didn't get around to a honeymoon until now," Blair added, pausing to snap a few pictures of the dot in the sky that was his lover. 

"This is a wonderful place for a honeymoon. My husband and I came here when the resorts were first built. Oh, it was so glamorous! You wouldn't believe the stars you could meet here!" 

"I understand it was a real playground for the rich and famous--well, it still is, but there are more...regular people like us here now." 

"You don't want to give that a try?" She gestured toward where Jim was sailing artfully over the water. 

"Uh-uh. I have a thing about heights. I have jumped out of an airplane before, but not without screaming all the way down." 

"What made you jump out of an airplane if you're afraid of heights?" she asked, laughing a little. 

"Jim," Blair responded, more to himself than her. "It was worth it." He realized he'd gotten a bit lost in his thoughts, and turned to her and smiled. "We were trying to rescue some friends of ours who had gotten lost in the jungle, and the only way in was to parachute in. Jim was going, so I followed. Ended up with a lizard in my pants." 

"Oh my God!" She laughed, covering her mouth with one hand. "I imagine you weren't laughing then." 

"Neither was the lizard," Blair quipped, taking another shot of Jim as the boat was making a return trip, bringing him back toward shore. "How long have you and your husband been married?" 

"Forty-five years yesterday. This is our anniversary trip." 

"That's really romantic." 

"Maybe you and Jim can keep up the tradition for us someday." 

"You'll probably be keeping it up for a long time to come." 

"This is probably our last year." She took a deep breath. "My husband has cancer," she said softly, watching the elderly man in question buying cold drinks from a stand several yards away. 

"He looks so...vital--healthy," Blair replied, strangely saddened by the impending death of this man whose wife he'd known for all of fifteen minutes. 

"We just found out. It's in his liver. The doctor didn't expect...he doesn't have long," she finished in a slightly strained voice. "But we've decided to take every moment we can have." She managed a smile, and on an impulse, Blair hugged her. She returned the pressure briefly, then stepped back. 

"Can't leave you alone for five minutes," her husband joked as he walked up behind his wife, carrying two cans of Diet Pepsi. 

"Your wife was just congratulating me on getting married," Blair lied, smiling. The older woman smiled back gratefully. 

"The big guy that went up after me, huh?" He handed his wife one of the drinks. 

"I guess we can't be subtle even when we try." 

"Just a good guess," he responded. "Well, honey, I think we ought to head back to the hotel. We're supposed to meet the Grangers at six, and I want to pick up a few souvenirs for the kids." 

"You're right." She turned back to Blair. "I hope that you and Jim have a very long, happy life together--that you are as happy as we've been." She reached out and squeezed his hand briefly, then turned to walk away with her husband. 

"I don't even know your name. I'm Blair," he volunteered. 

"Eileen and Mike Richmond," she replied. "We're staying at the La Princesa. Would you and Jim like to meet us for dinner sometime before you go back?" 

"That'd be great," Blair responded. 

"Call us. We'll be here three more days." 

"We will." 

"Nice meeting you, Blair," Mike added, starting them in motion to leave. 

"Same here." Blair watched them walk across the sand, sipping their drinks, hand in hand. //Dammit, but life isn't fair,// he thought. And his arms almost ached with the need to wrap themselves around Jim and never let go. //Jim!// Blair recalled belatedly that he wasn't capturing all of this on film, and turned back just in time to get Jim's landing in a series of shots. 

"You really ought to try that, Chief," Jim announced as he rejoined his lover and the next tourist waited to try the flight. 

"Can we go back to the bungalow now?" Blair asked, a little trace of desperation in his voice. 

"Sure, baby. What's wrong?" Jim's face reflected his concern as he stroked Blair's cheek, then slid an arm over the smaller man's shoulders as they walked away from the crowd. Blair's arm fastened tightly around Jim's waist. 

"I want to be with you. I mean, really _with_ you. Alone." 

"If my going on this stupid parasailing thing upset you, sweetheart--" 

"I'll explain later. It wasn't that." 

"Okay." 

As soon as the two men had dispensed with their beach gear, Blair launched at Jim, wrapping his arms around the solid middle and holding on tightly. Jim's arms came up a bit hesitantly, mainly from his confusion over Blair's mood. Feeling the tremor in Blair's breathing that spoke of barely contained tears, Jim rubbed his lover's back and kissed the top of his head. 

"What's wrong, baby? Tell me." 

"The guy who went up before you? He's dying...and it's their anniversary, and they're so in love even now...it's just not fair...and I got thinking how brief everything is...and how your time goes so fast...sometimes faster when something awful like that happens, and--" 

"Slow down, sweetheart. It's okay. I'm right here. We're both fine. We're young, healthy, we've got _years_ ahead of us." 

"But it can all get taken away so easily, and last year, it almost was, and I remember what I felt like all those weeks, and it just all flooded back when she told me her husband was dying..." 

"It's okay, baby. If you need to cry, it's okay. I understand." Jim stroked the soft curls as Blair's tears soaked his lover's t-shirt. "I will always love you, Blair. And we'll always be together, one way or another. We'll have a very long, happy life together, sweetheart. I didn't die last year. I survived. I really _survived_." Jim took a certain pride in that statement now. He'd come through his trauma strong, healthy and able to maintain the wonderful, fulfilling love affair he planned to have for the rest of his life. 

"I know. I just...you're older, and sometimes..." 

"Sometimes you're afraid of what's going to happen when I die and you're left behind." He felt a nod against his chest. "It might not happen that way, sweetheart. But if it does..." Jim sighed. "We handle the things we have to handle, baby. The strength to do it comes from somewhere, and we get through it. But being afraid of it for a lifetime is losing that lifetime in a whole lot of fear and grief you might never have to feel. Besides, you know I wouldn't ever completely leave my little guppy, don't you?" Blair chortled a little at that and nodded. "We're bonded, connected. We always will be, Chief. Any separation will only be temporary, and we've survived one of those before. It'll just be like me going ahead and, say, setting up a household for us in another place and sending for you later. Because as far as I'm concerned, you're spending eternity with me--so don't start getting any funny ideas that death is going change anything." 

"I love you so much." 

"I love you too, angel. What do you say we take a shower and order some dinner in, huh?" 

"Okay. Jim?" Blair pulled back and looked up at his lover, who used one hand to brush away Blair's tears. 

"What, baby?" 

"Promise me that you'll...be careful, and take care of yourself...and stay with me as long as you can." 

"If I ever leave you, it'll be against every fiber of my being, Blair. I'll fight with my last breath to be with you. I promise you that without even a second thought. And I won't be careless. The biggest thing that kept me hanging on when..." Jim took a deep breath, forcing himself to face it and say it. "The thing that kept me hanging on during the rape was the thought of not leaving you, of not wanting you to grieve for me. It was the only reason I _wanted_ to survive that." 

"I'm so proud of you, man. The way you made it through everything--and then the trial..." Blair shook his head. "You're the strongest person I ever met." 

"I don't know about that. I think our strength is a joint effort, baby." Jim kissed a damp cheek. 

"I didn't mean to go off like that. I don't know what got into me." 

"Last year put a lot of strain on both of us, sweetheart. We're going to be picking up the pieces for a while yet." 

"I guess you're right." 

* * *

The rest of the evening passed quietly, with dinner shared at the round picnic table on the patio, slow dancing in the moonlight to the soft music that wafted out from the stereo inside the patio door. Slow dancing led to kissing, kissing led to fevered caresses, and soon, Jim found himself with an armload of clinging Blair. Fastened at the lips, arms around each other, Blair's legs wrapped around his hips, Jim finally reached down and grabbed hold of Blair's ass. Part of it was passion, the other part necessity as he carried his partner to bed. Blair tended to overestimate Jim's size and underestimate his own, but Jim still wouldn't have traded the sensations of it for anything. 

They fell somewhat unceremoniously on the bed, happy to have at least aimed well and ended up on the soft bed instead of the floor. Clothing was slowly, lovingly removed, revealed flesh kissed, nibbled and worshipped. 

Jim turned them so Blair's body blanketed him, never breaking their kiss. Their heated arousals aligned, and they rocked together, enjoying the simple friction and the closeness as they concentrated on plundering each other's mouths thoroughly. 

Blair tore his mouth away to call out Jim's name, climaxing just moments before his lover. He was a boneless, spent heap of flesh draped over the large, very comfortable human bed known as Jim Ellison. He felt a little movement in the large, muscular body, but let himself settle down again when all he felt was the sheet being pulled up to keep Blair's back warm while they slept. 

* * *

The next two days moved along at a relaxed pace, with a little more local sightseeing and souvenir-shopping, another morning at the beach, an impromptu lunch in one of the hotel dining rooms with the Richmonds as they ran into them on the beach again, and plenty of time to just relax in their own posh bungalow or make love in the sunshine or moonlight, with only a few tropical plants watching. 

"I think we're almost packed, Chief," Jim said with a lilt of accomplishment in his voice. "You okay, baby?" He moved Blair forward in the lounge chair where he sat and fit in behind him, reclining them both, wrapping his arms around the smaller body. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just don't want to go home. This has been like heaven." 

"For me too, angel." Jim kissed the side of Blair's head and cuddled him close. "But unfortunately, duty calls next week." 

"Yeah, I know. I'm still planning on spending time at the PD with you. I'm just taking time off from Rainier." 

"Think you'll be ready to get rolling on the dissertation again by the Fall Semester?" 

"Probably. I don't feel too motivated right now, but I probably will. You know me. Can't stay idle for too long. Besides, I don't think I'd make a good housewife." 

"You're kind of a slob." 

"You didn't have to agree with me," Blair responded, laughing. "But then I should have expected that from Mr. Color-Coded Tupperware." 

"Ooooh. Low blow." Jim laughed, leaning back and closing his eyes. 

"You know what I was thinking?" 

"What?" Jim let his hand idly stroke across Blair's chest as they reclined there. 

"We have time for one more moonlight skinny dip." Blair shifted a little so he could look back over his shoulder. "What do you think?" 

Minutes later, clothes in a heap by the pool, the two men stood in the shallow end, water up to their chests, moonlight kissing the still water and bathing both of them in its odd white glow. Long moments were spent just kissing, exploring each other's mouths and feeling the press of flesh against flesh. Hands skimmed over wet skin, slid possessively into dry hair. Each man reaching for his lover's hardness, they pumped and stroked one another at a slow pace, drawing out the pleasure and the intimacy. They climaxed almost simultaneously, broken cries mingling in the stillness of the night. 

Jim caught his sagging partner and moved them to a ledge where they could sit, still submerged, and catch their breath. 

"Jim?" 

"What, sweetheart?" 

"How are we paying for this trip?" 

"What made you think of that now?" Jim asked, kissing Blair's forehead and pulling him closer. 

"I'm not working right now, and I know we're okay, but we're not rich--and this place--you won't even let me see the bills for most of this stuff." 

"When I bought the truck, I paid cash for it. No loan from the bank. I used the money I got from the insurance on the Expedition. So instead of making a car payment every month, I put it in the bank for us to take a nice trip somewhere. Then we got married, so it became the 'honeymoon fund'." 

"Was that enough for this?" 

"Well, no, but since I don't have the truck loan, and I've been setting aside payments anyway--" 

"You took out a loan?" 

"Yup. And I'd do it again in a heartbeat. It was worth every penny." 

"Wow." 

"Is that good or bad?" 

"That's...I don't know what to say. That was such a...beautiful thing to do." Blair moved back enough to look into Jim's eyes, and stroked his lover's face with a wet hand. "I love you so much. And you just keep getting...better." 

"I do, huh?" Jim smiled, catching the hand in his and kissing it. 

"I'm serious. You just go and do something ten times more wonderful than I ever thought possible. And I end up loving you more, which is something I _never_ think is possible. But then it happens." 

"Blair, for the rest of our lives, I want to make you happy. You know I'd give you the world if I could. This was sort of like, well, buying you paradise I guess." 

"You don't get it, do you?" Blair smiled up at his lover. "You gave me everything the day you promised me forever. Anyplace I'm with you is paradise. _You're_ my paradise, mine." 

Any further talk was silenced, as Jim occupied Blair's mouth with prolonged, breath-stealing kisses in the soft light of the Acapulco moon. 

End


End file.
